Destiel Pulled From The Wreckage
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: My first time publishing on FF. Um a love story for you about Dean and Castiel. Dean notices himself changing but has no idea into what. Yaoi which means boy on boy. Don't like. Don't read. You won't break my heart, idjit. M for later chapters for cussing, violence, me taking liberties with religion, and oh yeah, smut.
1. Chapter 1

In all fairness, it started out small. In their line of work and life experience, they usually didn't deal with small. The brothers' norm ran more toward the Apocalypse sized…literally.

In fact, Dean only first noticed it while zoning out on a long stretch of road between Omaha, Nebraska and their next hunt in Podunk, Nowhere. Dean did most of the driving so he got to look at the backs of his hands a lot. Usually that wasn't too interesting in and of itself. Dean wasn't sure if it was the light just hitting his skin wrong or something, but it looked like his hands were clean. Not just the normal scrubbed and washed clean, but more like the totally born again kind of clean.

Most people would not be thrown off by this or even notice, but a hunter's skin was a living tapestry of all their fights, their battles etched into their very flesh in the form of cuts, burns, and bruising. All the white nicks and scratches that criss crossed over his knuckles like demented pattern work were gone, the skin smooth and unblemished. A quick perusal of his palms told Dean that the pads of his fingers were now lacking the callused burns as well that he had acquired from holding onto an overheated Zippo for too long. Hell, even his nails were looking evenly trimmed.

Dean being Dean shrugged it off. So he got touched by an angel. Big deal. For whatever reason, Castiel must have cast some angel mojo on him at some point and given him a holy manicure. Whatever. These sort of things happened to him. It just seemed to be his strange lot in life.

"Gee thanks, Cas. Next time can I get the matching pedicure to go with it.", Dean grumbled with a roll of eyes to follow.

"What?", Sam yawned as he shifted into a more comfortable position. He looked over at his brother confused.

"Nothing.", Dean grunted, punching Sam in the shoulder for good measure. "What have I told you about touching the volume, damn it?!"

Dean noticed more as days went by, whether he wanted to or not. The next major observation came while he was in the shower. The brothers had stopped overnight in the bum fuck middle of Heartland nowhere at another rundown motel surrounded by seemingly endless cornfields. It looked like it was built in the sixties and hadn't been redecorated since then if the stained wallpaper was any proof. At least, the toilet worked and there was water pressure in the shower, small favors and all that.

Dean got out of the shower, glancing up in the mirror as he did so to stare at his reflection and was taken aback by it. That wasn't to say that he didn't ever look at himself. With looks this sweet, how could he not? Dean was definitely seeing himself for the first time in at long time though.

His skin was smooth, like baby ass smooth, similar to how he had been after Castiel had busted him out of hell. All his newly acquired scars since then from innumerable ammo, blade, claw, tooth, and nail were gone. Even more disturbing, his anti-possession tattoo looked like it was fading out of existence, being absorbed back into his skin. The only marking that looked like it was remaining intact was the angel's handprint on his shoulder, but even that looked changed. It had healed strange to begin with, staying a dark reddish color instead of paling out silvery white like most burns. It looked more golden now though, the raised skin of mark almost shimmered from it.

"What the hell?", Dean muttered, tracing the dulled outline of it. The touch of his fingertips lingered almost fondly over it despite its origin. The hunter jumped when a sudden bang on the door rattled it almost off of its rusted hinges.

"Damn it, Dean! Are you done yet?! Sometime tonight, man!", Sam yelled through the door.

"Unknot your panties, princess. I'll be out when I'm done!", Dean snapped, shaking his head. It had to be Cas's doing. That was all. Nothing to worry about. Next time Dean saw him though, he was going to give that damn angel an earful. This so violated personal space on so many different levels.

Until then, Dean took in his new skin, winking at his reflection. "Whatever. I'm still pretty."

TBC  
-


	2. Chapter 2

Things started to go even more pear shaped as time progressed to the point Dean could no longer ignore or explain it away, the small changes that were happening to him.

So Dean being Dean chose to hide it from himself but most of all, his brother. He didn't know what he was turning into but Dean was going to stop it, on his own and on his terms.

Dean started to accept something was truly happening when he heard the voices in his head. Not 'drink the Kool-Aid' kind of voices. It was more like someone had left a radio on in the back of his mind that merrily kept going in and out of tune on him when he started to pay attention to it.

It was strange and disconcerting yet oddly pleasant. The voices were near musical in nature, singing back and forth to each other in a language that tickled the back of Dean's brain with its familiarity. One voice in particular stood out from the rest, sounding nearer to him than all the rest for some reason. He could even convince himself that it was singing to him sometimes, sounding so close but yet so far.

It wasn't anywhere close to the sounds of hell. Dean still remembered those from his nightmares, a sympathy of razors opening up skin, of sweat and blood sizzling on too hot surfaces, and screams that never ended because the tortured no longer needed air to breathe.

With that in perceptive, Dean could admit that he had been through worse and the occasional music in his head was nothing to stress out about. Total bonus was whenever he heard the voices, Dean didn't have any recurring visions of Hell when he went to sleep that night.

Dean could deal.

Dean couldn't hide his ever changing condition from Sam after the damn shifter incident. It was supposed to be an 'in the bag' hunt, easy peasy with nothing out of the ordinary, but when did things ever go smooth for the Winchesters?

Sneaky supernatural bastard that the shifter was, Dean and Sam found out that he could turn into a bear. Usually not a problem considering how much ammo the hunters were packing but the boys had been expecting a wolf. Luck of the draw cause his luck was always shit when it counted, Dean was the one who got mauled and rag dolled by the bear. It did give Sam an excellent chance though to unload a full clip of silver into the shifter, effectively ending it. Both Winchesters thought it was the end of Dean as well. That was until all his wounds started to close up on their own without any scar or mark left behind in their wake. If not for his ruined, blood stained clothing, no one would have ever guessed what had happened to him. Five minutes after his close encounter with Yogi's evil twin, Dean was a new man…..again.

"Dude….that….that is not right. W-what….Why are you…?", Sam tried to pick out some diplomatic words other than 'WTF?!'. The boys were pretty well rounded with it come to unusual experiences but instant regeneration without heavenly or hellish aid was a new one on them.

"What? Would you rather I be some bear's picnic basket lunch?", Dean snapped, more pissed off about the shifter munching down on him than at Sam. He was too busy looking at the amount of damage done to his clothing to notice Sam's frown of concern. Dean kicked the corpse with a growl in retribution over the destruction of his favorite Aerosmith t-shirt. Fucking heathen ass shifter hating on a classic.

"No….but, Dean. How? I don't think it's an unreasonable question at this point.", Sam tried again, giving his brother an exasperated look.

"Hell if I know. It was probably Cas making an in and out house call. We'll send him a fruit basket later. Let's get the hell out of here. I'm freezing my barely covered ass off here. All the blood isn't helping either.", Dean shrugged off Sam's growing alarm, which like throwing gasoline onto a fire in terms of lessening it.

"I think you should call Cas.", Sam stopped Dean's obvious escape attempt out of their conversation.

"Hell no. He's busy with his war. We're busy with ours. We got no time for ice cream socials, Sammy.", Dean grunted, already starting to walk away. He heard his younger brother follow after him, his bitchface aimed full on at Dean's back speaking volumes of disapproval at it.

"Don't' call me that and yeah, we do. Especially when you are up and walking around after taking that much kind of damage. We have to figure out what happened or what's happening to you.", Sam said firmly as he watched Dean's shoulders tense up under his stare.

"You think I haven't done the tests! I'm not turning into anything. Just drop it.", Dean exploded, his temper overriding his good judgment which came crashing back moments later. Dean turned back slowly around to face his brother who looked like he was on the verge of losing his own temper.

"So when were you going to tell me that something was going on with you? Never? I know something hasn't been right lately even if you won't admit it to me.", Sam forced out his words under an illusion of calm. He couldn't keep the hurt out of them though. "After all we have been through, you still don't trust me?".

"Crap.", Dean sighed, feeling overly tired and drawn out thin. All he wanted was a damn beer and a greasy burger before he called it a night. He had heard the voices again early today so he already knew his sleep was going to be sweet tonight. He had been looking forward to it. "It's not about that. Of course I trust you. I trust you with my life. I….". He was so inept at expressing himself, his feelings and concerns. Dean would sometimes rather have his skin peeling off with rusty knives than talk about his feelings. The hunter shivered at that thought, memories of Hell reminding him that he knew what that exactly felt like. Feelings it was then. "You got enough on your own plate. I didn't want to add to it. It's probably nothing anyway."

"Dean…..When is it ever 'nothing' with us?", Sam chuckled weakly. He knew how hard it was for Dean. His older brother had lived his entire life as a hunter and that kind of existence did not involve a lot of touchy feely moments or even the knowledge of how to deal with them.

"Good ole Winchester luck.", Dean snorted back in agreement before his face turned serious again.

"I'm just worried about you. I know you've done all the tests but I want to do them again especially if you aren't going to bring Cas in on this one.", Sam told him a firm tone, one that said that answering 'no' was not a real option for Dean.

"Fine! Whatever! Go nuts!", Dean threw up his hands in mock surrender, "Anything to shut down this chick flick moment!"

True to his word, Sam tried out every test that the hunters knew on Dean. Twice.

"Happy now?", Dean growled, spitting out the taste and burn of rock salt from his mouth. All the cuts made from blades of all different types of metal had already healed up without any scars, leaving behind only small patches of drying blood as a reminder of their existence. The electrical burns had already healed up as well. Dean was still drenched from the holy water though and his clothing stuck grossly in places to his skin from the holy oil cause Sam had decided to be cute and think outside the box.

"No, Dean. Not at all.", Sam sighed, shaking his head. Just short of rubbing the remains of some dead doctrined saint on his older brother, he was stumped. Sam wished deep down that he felt elated by the fact Dean had not reacted to any of the tests negatively but some gut feeling kept him from that joy.

"At least, I'm not a monster. Don't I get any credit for that?", Dean popped open a couple of beers, passing one over to Sam who was still looking thoughtfully depressed.

"We don't know that for sure.", Sam pointed out. Dean rolled his eyes, chugging down most of his brew in one go. Experiencing pain and mild torture always made him thirsty.

"Glass is always half full with you isn't it, sunshine.", Dean muttered dryly into his beer.

"When has the glass had a chance to be full when you're around?", Sam countered, trying a pull on his own brew though not as deeply.

"Fair enough but that makes me an alcoholic not a monster, well not the kind we hunt anyway. What now, Kojak?", Dean yawned. He really wanted to hit the hay and get that peaceful sleep he had been so looking forward to all day. The songs in his head had been particular sweet today, that one voice seeming like it was singing directly to him somehow in a low, soothing tone.

"Besides all the healing- and don't get me wrong. The healing is great- what else have you noticed?", Sam finally asked, at a total loss.

"My scars are gone. The anti possession tattoo too.", Dean admitted after a moment.

"Holy shit Dean. You gotta…", Sam started to say to have his brother cut him off with a look of disgust.

"I've tried, damn it. Twice! It just keeps fading out. Like my skin is absorbing it or something.", Dean tossed out his empty bottle and immediately went for another one while Sam absorbed that little bit of information. Without the tattoo, he would have to depend on less reliable means to avoid demon possession.

"What else?", Sam sighed, running a hand through his long hair.

"Nothing.", Dean said and immediately kicked himself for it. It came out too quickly to be convincing especially for a pair of hunters who made their living by lying on a constant basis.

Sam's responding glare told Dean he wasn't buying it. "Nothing?", he challenged.

"There are…..", Dean let his sentence trail off, realizing how bad what he was about to say sounded out loud, "There are these voices….in my head. It's nothing too bad.".

"How is that not bad!? Where are you getting your definition for that word?! This is beyond just 'bad'!", Sam yelled as he stared Dean down.

"Cause they're not! I know how it sounds, believe me, but they don't tell me to do anything. I think they don't even know that I am listening to them.", Dean explained quickly, "It's like I'm listening in on some sort of conversation in another language.".

"Another language? Like what? Latin?", Sam tried to wrap his head around what was happening.

"I know what Latin sounds like, dip shit.", Dean favored his brother with a sour look. Just because his Latin wasn't as good as Sam's didn't mean he wouldn't recognize it if he heard it. "I don't know. It's sounds familiar, but hell if I can remember where I heard it."

"Ok. So you are hearing voices.", Sam dragged his hands down his face in a tired motion before pausing in thought. "You mean like Anna did?".

"Don't be an idiot. Anna was an angel in a self made witness protection program. You know I'm not part of the winged dick patrol. Just a meat suit for it.", Dean snorted, trying not to think about the beautiful red headed angel who had gotten her tail feathers fried by Michael for all her efforts to end Sam's life prematurely.

"Dean….You have to call Cas. This is getting serious.", Sam said after a long moment of charged held silence between them.

"I am not calling him! We can't keep pulling him down just because we have a problem we don't know the answer to right away.", Dean growled out. He chucked his unfinished beer into the nearest waste bin so that he could belly flop onto an ancient motel bed that luckily didn't collapse under his weight. Dean was going to get that sleep whether Sam liked it or not.

"This is more than just some problem! This is about you! You're changing and hearing voices. That's not a good thing. We need to know who you are listening in on and if they are going to be pissed about it, like 'come looking for us' or 'head on a spike' pissed!", Sam argued, not letting the subject die even after one of the participants so obviously called it quits. "Dean, for all we know, you might be possessed!".

Dean rolled over onto his back to glare up at his overly tall kin. "Bullshit! By what!? We've done all the tests. Twice! I don't know how much more salt I can eat before you're happy.", Dean groaned, throwing a threadbare pillow at Sam's head.

"If it's not a demon, then what? Monster leech worm thing?", Sam spit balled some more ideas.

"You've already electrocuted me. Carve me up with silver and the demon knife all you want. I'm not going to be a crispy critter for a third time. Anyway, I don't think this dive's breakers can take another hit.", Dean growled as he snagged a cover off the end of the bed to wrap himself up in it. "And before you bring it up, you already know that angels need consent to wear your body as a meat suit and I'm not about to allow some asshat angel to wear me anytime soon. Not now, not ever. Now shut up and go to sleep.".

"You could act a little more concerned about this.", Sam grumbled, climbing into the other bed with reluctance. He figured he had gotten all he could out of Dean tonight though. He resolved to bring this up again first thing in the morning.

"What do you want me to do? Cry about it? Curl up in hot bath of holy water and pray it just goes away? Yeah, right.", Dean sighed at he leaned up to turn the lights off. "I'm fine. In fact, I've been feeling awesome. Better than I have in years.". Dean realized it was true even as he said it aloud. He had been feeling fantastic lately. None of the old aches and pains that came from their particular profession and followed them everywhere seemed to bother him anymore. He felt ten years younger with a week's sleep under his belt and no hangover in sight. Dean couldn't remember the last time he had felt so good.

"Fine, but we are keeping tabs on you here on out. You let me know immediately if anything changes, no matter how small.", Sam sighed though his tone promised that this was far from over for him.

"Yes mother."

TBC

Dean's condition continued to evolve as time went on and their hunts got progressively harder. Something strange was happening in the world of monsters and it was leaving a bad taste of weird in the brother's mouths.

It was all very gradual but nothing was missed with two pairs of wary eyes upon it now. It was Sam who pointed out first that Dean was starting to sleep less and less. Neither brother slept through the night well or for very long as a general rule. Each knew hell intimately though their experiences differed considerably.

Dean's nightmares were more soaked in shades of red, starring Alastair as his ringmaster and executioner. They were stripped down versions of him still on the rack, experiencing pain so pure it rested on top of his skin with all the other bodily fluids that were bled from him.

Sam's own horrific visions involved more mind fuckery and soul searing. Lucifer whispered lies that sounded too much like truths in one ear while Michael screamed in the other as the pair hate banged Sam's being out of frustration and sheer boredom.

As a result, insomnia was an old drinking buddy of theirs. It was usually accompanied by its kin night terrors and bad motel beds. As of late though, Dean didn't trade time with them anymore. The six hours he might get on a really good dreamless night dwindled down to four and then to three until it was to the point Dean's back no longer came in contact with the rented mattress at all.

"Do you think you're losing your soul?", Sam asked over breakfast. The hunters were sitting across from each other at another roadside mom and pop diner, waiting impatiently for their breakfast and more refills of bad coffee. Sam had woken up again to find Dean fresh as a daisy and his bed un-slept in.

"Well, considering that I don't feel like ganking you and everyone here just cause I'm bored, I am going to go with 'no'.", Dean said, giving his brother a pissy look for even asking that. He had already given the concept some considerably thought. Dean had more than enough time for it now. Porn could only fill so many hours before it just got boring. Not even his go to site of 'Busty Asian Beauties' was doing it for him anymore.

Sick of the internet, Dean spent most of his newly freed up nights working on his baby, and cleaning his guns along with rest, namely the widely ranged cache of weapons stored in the trunk. That or he went on long walks in the places the brothers only inhabited for a day or so. He found that though every place was generally the same, there were enough differences to keep it interesting for him. Plus it was fun teasing, avoiding, and alluding cops with too much time on their hands as well at four in the morning.

"That's comforting.", Sam said dryly, "Why don't you do something useful then like research? That is what I did to pass the time.". Or so he was told. Sam's memories about his time without a soul were still a bit sketchy at best but according to Bobby and their grandfather Samuel, he had been a hunter extraordinaire. A hunter extraordinaire with a laser focus on getting laid but still…..

"Psssst. I got better things to do than sink to your nerdy depths.", Dean snorted, "Anyway, my baby has never sounded so good or ran better now that I'm starting to spend some real quality time with her."

"Your relationship with that car is disturbing.", Sam shook his head, politely smiling up at the waitress as their food arrived in hand. Heart healthy oatmeal with a fruit cup for him and blueberry pancakes piled high with back and eggs for Dean. A pitcher of syrup came along with those steaming cakes that was destined to be decimated and absorbing into those three pancakes with more butter than was humanly necessary.

"You know it's a good thing that our 'job' is so active. You would be fat as hell by now without it.", Sam arched a brow at his older brother. He cringed as Dean started to slather the surface of everything on his plate with syrup. In Sam's opinion, bacon wasn't meant to drip like that.

"Not all of us can live on hippie food and wheatgrass bullshit, bro.", Dean glared at Sam's oatmeal as if its existence personally offended him. The older Winchester was sure that he had thrown up things that had looked more appetizing than that bowl of brown mush. "Some of us men have real needs. Needs that only bacon and eggs can fill with a healthy dose of pancakes."

"You should at least try to eat something with nutritional value. You know, food that is not soaked in sugar, grease, salt, and booze.", Sam huffed, unwilling to admit even to himself how good Dean's breakfast smelled.

"There's blueberries in there. That's a fruit. Quit bitching and eat your damn sludge. We gotta hit the road.", Dean said around a mouthful of fluffy goodness before washing it down with gulp of refreshed coffee. Even as he swallowed, Dean took his time gathering the next bite instead of just shoveling it in. It wasn't like what Sam had said had bothered him, the argument timeworn and familiar. It wasn't the food either, the pancakes were actually pretty good and Dean could even say that they were some of the best he had ever had in his life. There was nothing wrong with the food or conversation. The thing that was off in this equation was him.

Sam finished his modest meal long before Dean, which was unusual in itself. It was made even more so when Dean pushed his still mostly full plate away from him with a frown. Sam studied the other hunter warily in return, trying to keep the shock and worry out of his face.

If any sin could fit Dean to a T, Gluttony would be in the running neck and neck with Pride and Wrath. Dean had never been shy about fulfilling any of his bodily wants, whether it was for food, booze, or anything more carnal. While most people would not be phased in the slightest by Dean's behavior, especially after seeing how much syrup he had poured over it, Sam was not 'most people' and knew that signs of an impending Apocalypse having caused and experienced one first hand.

"Aren't you going to finish that?", Sam asked, trying to keep his tone casual but failed miserably at it as he watched Dean shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Not hungry.", Dean grunted, glaring down at his coffee as if looking for answers in its tepid surface.

"But you love pancakes.", Sam said carefully. Dean hunched down more in answer.

"What are you? The food police? I said I'm not hungry. You got a problem with that?", Dean snapped, white knuckling his coffee cup. Both brothers paused when they noticed fine white cracks starting to appear along the surface of the china.

"Dean…..", Sam began to say, knowing from experience that he should let it drop. His prodding only made his tense brother shatter the coffee cup with his bare hands. Wiping his dripping hands off with a napkin, Dean jumped up out of his seat, grateful for a reason to do so. He headed out toward the exit without another word, ignoring the stares of the other restaurant patrons.

After he apologized to the waitress and paid the bill, Sam found Dean sulking in the Impala with Metallica already blaring at full volume. It was a pretty solid signal to him that Dean did not feel like talking at the moment.

On his part, Dean just wanted to lose himself in the journey and the next hunt along its way. On reflection though, his luck had always been shit. Why would today be any different as Sam slid into the passenger's seat and turned off the music with a set bitch face expression of 'we gotta talk'.

"Sam, don't' start.", Dean growled out in warning as he revved up the Impala.

"No. You're getting worse.", Sam said quietly, though his resolve could be clearly heard in every low word uttered.

"I feel fine. More than fine. Awesome, like I could take on a nest of vamps all by myself and not get drained.", Dean tried to reassure. It was the truth after all. He had never felt better in his entire life than he did right now. It was like his feet could take off from the ground at any moment, he was so full of energy.

"Not sleeping and not eating does not equate into 'fine', at least not in the human sense of the word.", Sam snapped, fed up with Dean's lackadaisical attitude toward his condition. "We need to call Cas."

"So call him.", Dean challenged with a wide smirk. "Call him if you think he'll answer you cause I'm not doing it.". It was a gamble but one that Dean was willing to take. It had been proven time and time again that Castiel, the Lord's angel of Thursday, only seemed to answer Dean's prayers and no one else's.

"Jerk.", Sam spat out as he deflated, turning so that he could huff at the window. Dean didn't know but Sam had already tried praying to Castiel weeks ago when he had first noticed Dean's symptoms. His appeals remained unanswered by the dour, wayward angel.

"Bitch.", Dean counted, feeling smug as he turned up the volume so that he could sing along in childish victory.

TBC  
-


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't that Dean didn't want to call Castiel. There was nothing he would like to do more actually, the words of his prayers living on the tip of his tongue, growing desperate and bitter there the longer they stayed there unspoken.

He wanted to lay all of his problems at Castiel's feet and have the angel give him a head tilt of deep seated confusion or tell him some impressive yet indiscernible answer to his ever growing problem.

It was just…

Calling Castiel down was awkward in so many different ways. His presence was like a leaden weight upon Dean that made his stomach turn and the brand on his shoulder itch. He could feel the angel sometimes even before he appeared, a thrill of it that made all the gooseflesh on his body tighten and cool too quickly at once.

Part of it was that Dean was so inept at talking to Castiel. The angel didn't get half of his references so most of Dean's wit fell horribly flat, like flat as a pancakes made of concrete flat. In those moments, Castiel would give him his signature head tilt of doomed social interaction. It was made all the worse because Dean actually starting to find it endearing now, but in that head tilt of 'what is going on?', Dean managed to find out that he had an opening to talk to Castiel about anything and everything in an almost normal manner.

Dean treasured those moments as some of the best spent with the angel because Castiel listened to him and not because he had to. It was also a nice change of pace that not everything they talked about was of 'life and death' importance. One time, Dean had spent almost an entire morning while Sam was out doing research explaining cartoons and their purpose(or lack there of) to Castiel, drinking beer and watching Scooby Doo with the baffled angel. Dean still laughed whenever he remembered Castiel staring down the television with a perplexed yet stern look on his face as the angel told him in that grave tone of his that 'a dog does not talk like that and why do they feel the need to keep splitting up to look for ghosts when it is obviously a farce created by an old man.'.

It made Dean feel nice to have someone listen to him without the usual incentives of weapons, monsters, and death attacking them from all sides at once. When Castiel gave his whole attention to something, he did so fully, directing like it was the only thing within existence worth paying attention to. Initially, Dean thought it discomforting but gradually he found himself seeking out the angel's consideration. It was almost entrancing to Dean now how Castiel absorbed any bit of information that he gave him whether it was trivial or not, the angel near visibly cataloging it away in his brain as if to study later. Dean often wondered if the angel did, Castiel going back to revisit his thoughts. Dean reasoned if he did, Castiel probably only did so to marvel at how stupid humans were, like all the other angels seemed to. He didn't think so though…..at least he hoped not and Dean didn't hope for anything often.

And then there was Castiel himself….the angel who dressed like a holy tax accountant in his trench coat, ill fitting suit and tie. His appearance should have been boring at best, nerdy and un-noteworthy at worst.

If Dean was being honest with himself and everyone else, he was admittedly bi. It was just that most of their cases were in small communities and towns. Dean was all for instant gratification and girls were just easier to read and pick up at a moment's notice, which is all he had most of the time. It also helped that the female gender just about threw themselves at him. Dean could easily go for some dick but he hardly bothered when pussy just presented itself so readily to him.

That all changed when an angel, his angel, walking into his life that fateful night full of wind, storm, and lightening.

Castiel, God's warrior angel of Thursday, the one who raised him from Perdition and marked him with more than just a scar, was beyond the meager word of beautiful….Dean had no word in his vocabulary to portray him well enough…...

….and Dean could never let himself go there, allow his wants ever to go down that way of thinking. It was never to be a possibility for so many valid reasons. First and foremost, Castiel was an angel and that made him an instant no fly zone on that alone. Dean could think of other more productive ways of torturing himself other than dreaming about how Castiel's hands would feel against his skin exploring every inch of it or how the angel would taste and how soft his full lips would be pressed to his own.

It wouldn't and didn't stop him from looking though. Dean could allow himself one impossible dream to warm himself in the hour of the wolf when a human was truly alone with his own terror. He didn't need to punch his own ticket back to Hell by lusting after an angel who probably regarded him the same way a boot regarded an ant.

It didn't help in matters of adoration that Castiel seemed actually fond of him and Sam. Fond was probably not the right word for it though. Dean was fond of pie but it didn't mean he would have chosen to fall from heaven for it like Castiel had done for them and their cause.

The whole thing was complicated and Dean had more than enough of that in his life.

So no, he wouldn't call Castiel until the shit really hit the fan and only then if he couldn't help it.

It didn't mean he didn't want to though.

Dean found himself getting harder to kill. In a good way. The demon pounding on him was finding this out firsthand as well and looking very uncomfortable about it.

A blow to Dean's face that should have shattered his jaw like glass, merely glanced off of it and was barely felt. Dean didn't know who was more surprised by this, the demon or himself.

"That was a cute love tap. I'm usually all for foreplay but I would rather get to the main event. What else you got for me, sweetheart?", Dean grinned, cracking his knuckles as the demon started to back away from him.

"What the hell are you?", the demon floundered, realization dawning on him that he was totally screwed.

"Wish I knew.", Dean shook his head as he started to wail on the demon with his bare fists. It felt good. Really good. He had been getting stronger, unnaturally so. Last week when the Impala had gotten a flat, instead of breaking out the wheel jack, Dean had simply lifted up the car and held it steady while Sam changed out the tire. He had done all this one handed.

That in mind, Dean found out he had to be careful with his new gift. A moment's impatience while taking off his footwear had caused him to rip the thick boot leather as if it were made of paper. The major wakeup call had been him leaving his handprints in the Impala's steering wheel while raging at some traffic. Sam was the one who drove through major cities now while Dean fumed beside him in the passenger seat having to listen to Sam's douchebag music. The younger Winchester was well versed in the car rules and was doubled quick to inflict them on Dean to his fullest advantage of 'driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.'.

Being able to take out demons now with his bare hands almost made up for having to listen to chick music. The boost in his strength had come with a considerable amount of invulnerability as well. Dean had stopped using the normal methods of demon slaying in lieu of his fists, mostly for shits and giggles at first, just to see if he could do it. So far it was working out in his favor for once. Best of all, Dean was having a hell of a good time while doing it.

Some rabbit punches to his ribs reminded Dean that he was in a fight and that was no time to zone out no matter how boring it was. Whoever this demon was, he sucked at fighting and the person he had stolen for his vessel was pathetic. Sighing, Dean grabbed the demon's forehead with all good intentions of just driving the black eyed bastard backward to hit the floor and knock his ass out so that the hunters could question him later.

Instead, a bright white light began to shine through the demon's facial orifices, his mouth and eyes filling up with a burning white hot light as if he had just swallowed a star. There was a crackling of roasted flesh, the vessel's eyes melting out of its head and the smell of ozone as Dean let go of the newly made corpse. As he let it fall out of his hand mostly out of shock, Dean noticed how quiet it had gotten. The demon had been screaming up to just a second again and the ensuing silence was unnerving.

Hearing someone approach, Dean quickly kicked the demon over onto its belly to hide the damage as Sam rounded a corner with a concerned expression. Locating Dean, he ran quickly toward him.

"Dean! Jesus, are you alright?!", Sam yelled, looking around with the demon blade ready in hand.

"Yeah….yeah. Why wouldn't I be?", Dean made himself say, trying to forget about what had just happened. He had seen that kind of exorcism before and it shouldn't have been possible for him to do it. Ever.

"Well, I didn't hear any gun fire and crap load of screaming. Did you really just take out all these demons with your bare hands?", Sam asked, a touch of awe in his voice as he took in the amount of destruction all around them.

Shaking off his discomfort, Dean took a moment to gloat. "Face it, bro. I'm a demon terminator now.", he grinned smugly, "I mean I was before but now I'm on a whole new level of bad assery."

"I don't think that 'bad assery' is actually a word.", Sam rolled his eyes.

"Tough titties. I'm making it one."

Laughing at Sam's look of disgust over the blatant misuse of the English language, Dean buried the sight of the demon's death deep within his psyche. He knew that he should tell Sam about it and he would.

Soon…..maybe.

Dean found himself becoming a real connoisseur of rock salt. Morton's had a more mineral taste to it while he found that he preferred Diamond Crystal for its more refined texture.

Like so many times before, Sam was making him go through all the tests again for the umpteenth time. Dean was starting to get really sick of it especially when he noticed Sam sacrificing the motel's hair dryer to the cause, the younger Winchester stripping the wires with a well practiced hand. Dean felt a whole renewed wave of raw hatred for Eve and her damn ear goop worm monsters.

"I'm done.", Dean snapped, spitting out the last of the salt as he toweled off the holy water Sam had doused him with.

"Dean…..", Sam sighed, trying to give his older brother more puppy eyes than bitch face to avoid an arguement. It wasn't like he enjoyed torturing Dean with all the tests even if he did heal up almost instantly from them. Sam felt it was necessary though to help reassure them both that Dean wasn't about to turn into a monster. They still didn't know what he was progressing toward but still. Better safe than horribly sorry or even dead later on.

"I said no, damn it! I'm sick of this shit!", Dean spat out. He was having a rough time of it. For a couple of days now, his back had been bothering him something fierce. Not unusual considering their dangerous and injury packed lifestyle but after months of being in peak condition with instant healing to boot, the aches and pains that ran up and down his spine were very noticeable.

It felt like Dean was carrying a weight of some kind on his back, making him want to hunch over at times from it. He found laying on his stomach relieved some of the phantom pressure though if he flipped over onto his back it became extricating. It also didn't help matters either that Dean kept thinking that he saw things moving out of the corner of his eye, dashes of light too near him to be comfortable.

Flopping face down on the motel bed decorated with one of the ugliest coverlets the hunter had ever laid eyes upon, Dean sighed into the threadbare pillows. His senses dulled by the sheer monetary relief of being off his feet, Dean failed to notice Sam seeking up on him with an exposed wire in hand or when said live wire was place to a patch of bare skin on his arm. The crackle of electivity hitting skin made both brothers jump. The sonic boom that folllowed threw Sam off his feet and across the room while shattered everything made of glass in the motel room as the windows blew out from the force of it. It was a muffled explosion made of pure sound and Dean was the ground zero for it.

With his ears still ringing from the boom, the first thing that Dean was able to note was that someone's car alarm was going off in the parking lot and that all the glass in the room was now broken and spread out over the floors and beds. He was also quite aware that something was on his back.

On his back and moving.

Dean's main concern at that point was not for himself despite his close proximity to the unknown. He needed to know that Sam was safe from it, whatever it was, and that it didn't attack his brother if Sam was unconscious. So Dean moved to dislodge it by rolling swiftly to the side in a well practiced hunter move. He did it perfectly despite being shell shocked, finely honed instincts kicking in. Only problem was that the thing on his back moved with him.

The lone lamp that had managed somehow( possibly shielding itself with the amount of tacky it was exuding) to survive the explosion was destroyed along with the TV before Dean realized that Sam was up and yelling at him. His younger brother didn't look too worse for wear, considering what had just happened. He was a little cut up and bloody but he didn't look scared. Confused as all hell and dazed but not scared of whatever the hell was on Dean's back. It took a moment longer for Dean to realize that Sam was begging him to calm down. Those words certainly didn't make any sense to him. Something, several somethings in fact, were sitting on the middle of his back along his spine, and were attacking him. Why couldn't Sam see that?

"Dean! Dean! Calm down and hold still! You're only making it worse!", Sam yelled into Dean's face after ducking under something. Sam was keeping low to the ground as he shook his older brother by his shoulders, trying to get some sort of reaction from him other than active. Dean blinked back at him, trying to focus on his kin and his strange reaction to what was attacking them. "Please Dean, just hold still before you hurt me and yourself!". Some part of Dean told him that he was in shock. Another told him to trust Sam as Dean took a deep rattling breathe. He forced himself to grow still and let his head clear up from some of the fog that had settled there.

The things on his back stopped moving at the same time, only twitching occasionally, enough so that Dean almost forgot about them as he tried to understand what Sam was trying to tell him. His brother sounded like he had been talking for a while and Dean wondered if he had been doing so this entire time. He felt kind of bad for not paying attention but being blown up with something clinging to his back seemed like a good excuse to him not to.

"What?", Dean managed out groggily, making an effort to pay attention to whatever the hell Sam was saying to him.

"Wings! Dean, you have wings!", Sam repeated from what felt like the billionth time in the span of a few minutes.

"I've got what?!", Dean reorganized mentally, shoving past Sam and off the bed in an effort to make it to the bathroom in one piece. Hopefully the mirrors in there survived the blast. Getting into the bathroom was a whole new challenge of its own but Dean managed it by mostly by breaking apart the door in its frame, sending chunks of drywall flying everywhere. Inside the tiny room, Dean found that most of what was left of the mirror was cracked but he could still see his reflection well enough to gape at it.

Three pairs of wing flared out as far as they could in the tiny space and flailed about, throwing Dean off his balance as he took in the sight of his new outline. Dean grabbed one of the wings of the largest set the resting in the middle of his back, just between his shoulder blades. He dragged it forward to study the new appendage, feeling the movement of bones, tendons, and fine muscles struggling against his rough grip. The feathers covering it could have easily been made of diamond or crystals if such solid elements could be made fluid and still retain all the properties of a downy feather. So white and yet so faceted, they glittered like starbursts made of fractured light and broken rainbows. While the largest set were easily double if not triple his height in wingspan and rested between his shoulder blades, the other two sets of wings were smaller, about half the size of the primary set, with top pair just under his neck while the bottom pair sat at the small of his back.

Dean swallowed hard, taking it all in as he let go of his wing, the new appendage snapping back with an audible sound. Now that the ringing in his ears had waned, Dean noticed that the feathers made a faint sound when they rubbed together. It was soothing in a way, almost like hundreds of chimes in tune with each other playing out a melody usually only known by the wind.

"I think it's time we called Cas.",

-  
TBC  
-


	4. Chapter 4

Warning- Yaoi in upcoming chapters. Yaoi means boy on boy, gay, all hotdogs and no hamburgers.

I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters but thanks for thinking so.

Story is set sometime in Season Six after Sam got his soul back and Eve has made her first appearance. Other than that, I am taking liberties with the season and ignoring the events of how it ended. Read at your own risk. Also this is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I think it's time we called Cas.", Dean choked out, gripping the countertop hard enough to crack it. Not that he cared. Everything else was broken or fucked up. What was one more thing?

"No shit.", Sam said from the doorway with enough attitude it made Dean break out of the stupor he was putting himself into.

"Oh don't get all high and might with me! I didn't know that this would happen!", Dean snapped, struggling to get out of the bathroom. The place was too small for him and all his new appendages which were not being cooperative. Dean had to stop trying all together so that he could just focus on just staying upright. With some effort, he managed to fold all three pairs against his back.

"We should have known something like this would happen.", Sam said, watching his brother struggle to walk, keep his balance, and his wings folded all at the same time.

"Really Sam? Cause I don't know about you, but I could have never called this one.", Dean grumbled, looking for their bags from what was left of the room. They were lucky in the sense that the brothers hadn't bothered to unpack any of their meager possessions yet and that they checked into this dump so late at night. Shaking off most of the glass and debris, Dean grabbed both of their bags and headed toward the door, turning back only when he realized that Sam wasn't following him. "What the hell are you waiting for? A printed invitation? Move your ass and let's get the hell out of here before the cops show up.".

"Point. I don't wanna have to explain how the room blew up or why you are walking around half naked with wings.", Sam nodded, catching up with the program as the hunters ran to the Impala. Confused, Dean looked down at himself to find that his t-shirt was completely gone and his jeans had more than a few tears in them. As if in reaction to the thought of being unexpectedly half naked, the wings did a weird thing as the new appendages curving around his torso and legs as if to protect him. Rolling his eyes up at the night sky, Dean didn't know now effective an armor made of damn feathers would be. "Throw me the keys. There is no way you'll be able to drive with those.", Sam said quickly, mentally calculating wing size vs. Impala space.

"Crap. You're right! How am I supposed to get in?!", Dean griped, throwing the bags into the back seat.

"Figure it out!", Sam snapped, already hearing sirens off in the far distance. The motel looked fairly deserted when they checked in earlier and appeared to be holding true to that fact, the brothers not seeing anyone peeking out of windows at the strange sight of them in the parking lot.

The Impala tore out onto the road with Dean sitting in the passenger's seat window, his hands gripping the door's frame to keep from flying off. Even with his wings folded against his back, Sam had to hold onto his legs with one hand as they both looked for side roads that would take them further into the middle of nowhere. After several twists and turns, the brothers found themselves out in the middle of a field with dark woods on one side of them and a sea of half grown cornfields on the other.

Dean barely managed to hold on as the Impala came to a skidding halt on loose, wet soil, the field turning a bit muddy from all the dew. The hunter groaned upon noticing the indentions he had left in the car's side from his finger pads. It was going to take him forever to get those out.

"Damn it, Sam! It's not Baby's fault this happened. Don't take it out on her.", Dean growled at Sam. He was positive it was Sam's fault for the sudden stop that had made Dean hurt his beloved vehicle.

"Forget about the damn car!", Sam snapped, hopping out with the police scanner in hand. Nothing was coming through on it about them so he relaxed for a moment.

"Blasphemy!", Dean gasped, turning to the Impala to address it, "Baby, don't you listen to that bad man.".

"Dean, quit dicking around and call Cas already.", Sam glared, "Or did you already forget that you're only missing the halo to complete your current look?".

Sam had a point and there was no point in putting off the inevitable now. "Castiel! Castiel, come on in. Cas, wake and bake! Get your feathery ass down here ASAP!".

"…"

"…"

"God damn it, Cas! ASAP means now!"

The brothers waited for the sound of wings with prickled anticipation and were not disappointed when it resolved itself into the familiar form of the dour angel. Said angel's next actions not so much, Castiel springing into action by drawing his golden blade and surging forward at a frightening speed toward Dean with a murderous intent, his expressionless face eerily still.

Only Sam would be so brave, i.e. stupid enough, to come between an angel of the Lord and his intended smiting. "Cas, stop! It's Dean!", Sam shouted, putting himself physically between the two.

"Jesus!", Dean yelped, trying to come to Sam's aid and defend himself all at the same time. He managed to flail magnificently about with all the grace of a dying goose before falling flat on his face in a mess of feathers that chimed sweetly at him as his wings continued to flap about out of his control. Dean could see himself getting sick of that crap real quick. "Stand down! I'm on your side!", Dean yelled from the ground, spitting out some dirt.

"Hello Dean." Castiel said calmly as if he hadn't just tried to murder him. Dean looked up to find the angel standing over him, his head already tilted to the side in inquiry. "You have wings.".

"Yeah, thanks, Nancy Drew. We figured that much out for ourselves already.", Dean grumbled, trying to stand up. The wings had other ideas of their own on this matter though and most of them didn't involve helping Dean in the simple endeavor of going vertical. Dean finally just gave up and got his revenge by flipping over onto his back so that he could lay on top of damn things in an attempt to keep the wings still. It turned out to be oddly comfortable, his bare back cushioned by warm weathers instead of night cooled, slightly moist earth and his highest pair of wings braced his neck up comfortably like some bizarre therapeutic pillow.

"How did this come to pass? How have you done this to yourself?", Castiel asked, his brow furrowing. In Dean's opinion, the solemn expression did nothing to mar the angel's attractiveness. Despite having just blown up a motel room, getting wings, and laying on his back on said wings in the middle of nowhere under a night sky of stars, Dean could already feel himself starting to relax. Castiel's presence was like a balm to Dean's tired, jagged soul which caused the hunter to shake his head at such a mushy thought. He reasoned out more realistically that it was probably because he knew that the angel had his back and wouldn't let anything happen to him, especially now that Castiel had all his angel mojo back.

"You wanna put your pig poker away before you take someone's eye out with it?" Dean nodded to the golden sword still in the angel's hand. "And let me just add, WHAT THE HELL?! Why did you go all smitey on me?!".

"My apologies. I mistook you for another.", Castiel looked down at his weapon as if just noticing it for the first time, the angel slipping it back into his trench coat to wherever he hid it.

"Holy hell, Cas. Good to know that my wings look like someone who pisses you off.", Dean muttered, his wings moving to do that weird covering thing again. Admittedly, Dean did feel safer even if he did think he must look like a downy human sized burrito at the moment.

"I did not attack you out of anger. I was frightened.", Castiel admitted with an ease that was disconcerting. "I will not do so again now that I know it is you.".

"I know that.", Dean huffed from inside his wings.

"Your wing language says you do not.", Castiel observed, his gravelly tone softer than usual. "You should not be laying on them like that in the dirt.". The angel's words and gentleness made Dean peek out from behind his wings to find Castiel staring down at him with an unreadable expression with his lips slightly parted. Dean wetted his own with the tip of his tongue before he realized what he was doing.

"Why would you be scared of Dean?", Sam asked, reminding both Castiel and Dean that he was still there. Dean considered briefly hiding in his feathers again and just going to sleep until this whole thing blew over to save himself some embarrassment. Awesome idea but then he remembered he didn't sleep anymore.

Balls.

"He has six wings.", Castiel started to explain.

"Us mud monkeys can count real good, thanks.", Dean snorted, unable to resist making a smart ass comment. It was his form of stress relief.

"Dean, shut up and let Cas talk.", Sam glared at his brother, who looked unrepentant. "Sorry about him. It's been a long night. What were you saying about six wings?". Dean amused himself by making his wings uncurl to see if he could. Apparently, he didn't feel threatened anymore because they did what he wanted for once. Dean did notice though that Castiel's eyes were locked on the appendages' movement, the angel leaning in and back in time to their motions through the air. Arching a brow at the Castiel in question, Dean wondered if he was doing the heavenly equivalent of shaking his ass at the angel.

"That marks Dean as part of the Seraphim. A seraph is a very powerful angel and among the highest ranking of Heaven. Because their wings are like no others, I felt I had to strike before the seraph had a chance to defend itself.", Castiel explained, his eyes never leaving Dean as he did so. Dean met his stare head on with his own, his green eyes narrowing as they clashed with a blue that was currently a stunning shade of sapphire. He wasn't ever sure what color of blue Castiel's eyes actually were, the angel's irises seemed to change up and down the color's spectrum on whim alone.

"Protect myself with feathers? Awesome! Why don't I just cover myself in bubble wrap while I'm at it!", Dean griped from the ground, flicking a wing in Castiel's direction. He cringed when it chimed sweetly at the angel. When Castiel's eyes widened at the gesture, Dean considered just wrapping damn things up around his body again until he mastered wing language. He really hoped that he hadn't just flipped an angel's equivalent of the bird at Castiel or said anything else insulting. Castiel's total lack of expression was being even harder to read than usual at the moment.

"Your feathers are more resistant to damage than you realize. The top pair will protect your head and neck, the middle your body, and the last your feet and ankles from attacks.", Castiel admonished, giving Dean a stern look.

"Just how resistant are we talking about here? Body armor? Kevlar?", Dean ignored the angel's ire, more in favor of blowing feathers out of his face than continuing their staring match. He found out that his flight feathers made a different sound than his down feathers. Dean was thrilled and annoyed all at the same time by this.

"If this…..Kevlar….", Castiel paused at the unfamiliar word as if looking through his memory for some sort of reference for it. Finding none, he continued"….is effective against hellfire and everything else in creation just short of the Word of God himself, then yes."

Dean whistled low, impressed despite his reservations, as he ran his fingers through his feathers with a new appreciation, the wings chiming back at him in low notes. "Good to know."

"I would expect nothing less from the vessel that was meant for Michael.", Castiel stated in grimmer tones than usual, his gaze lingering over Dean's wings.

"Can you not be all cryptic for once and just tell me how do I get rid of them? Sweet armor or not, they gotta go.", Dean said, attempting to sit up again. To his relief, he found out that he could, the hunter rolling to his feet. Apparently his subconscious or instincts were telling his new appendages that Castiel was not a threat so they were behaving for once, the three pairs of wings folding up neatly against Dean's back. Now that he was up and level, Dean noticed something in the air, his nostril flaring as he picked up a scent. Sweet rain mingled with the tang of salt and the bite of ozone made Dean's head feel light and slightly dizzy as he followed it, all other senses dulled in his desire to hunt down the source of that scent. The trail ended with Dean bumping smack into Castiel. The hunter's eyes flew open(when had he closed them?) to find himself chest to chest with the angel with his nose buried into the nape of Castiel's neck, his hands gripping the angel's shoulders like his life depending on it.

Dean pulled back though he left his hands in place, and even that small action was hard to do for him. He wanted to bathe himself in that scent, rub his feathers in it until he was surrounded by it and every spare inch of skin saturated with it. Castiel was looking back at him though, and though his face was void of everything except for that damnable calm, his eyes were prisms of emotion. The deep sadness that Dean found there made him release the angel and step back from him, his hands already starting to shake from the loss of contact.

"Dean? Are you alright?", Sam asked from somewhere off to his side. His brother could have been on the other side of the moon for all Dean knew or cared. Castiel was his sole focus at the moment or at least he desperately wanted him to be, so much so Dean could taste his want on the tip of his tongue sweet and heavy as sin…but all he was getting in return was that look of infinite sadness from his angel. With effort, Dean reeled himself in with a self control born of iron will and a lifetime of pain and suffering, stepping back from Castiel.

"Yeah, Sammie. I'm just peachy.", Dean laughed shakily, his eyes still on the angel. "Sorry about that Cas."

"It is alright, Dean. I understand you can not control yourself.", Castiel looked away for the first time from Dean since his arrival. The hunter felt his heart plummet wanting those too blue eyes back on him. Dean let out a sigh of relief when Castiel turned to face him again.

"Why do you smell so good? Is this an angel thing?", Dean asked, Castiel's alluring scent still gnawing holes in his self control.

A rare half smile flitted across Castiel's face before is settled back in neutrality. "That is a satisfactory way of putting it. Yes, it is an angel thing and one you should not be experiencing.", he admitted softly.

"Great. So let's change me back.", Dean rubbed his hands together before running them down his face. He didn't know how much longer he could last. Castiel was making his skin feel cold and his blood flow too hot underneath it, making Dean shiver from the contrasting sensations.

"I am afraid that you can not.", Castiel's revelation broke Dean out of his complex to stare at the angel.

"What do you mean I can't!? Why do I have the damn things in the first place!? Why is this happening to me?!", Dean snapped, grateful for the anger. That was something familiar he could latch on to, to keep himself sane.

"What exactly happened to you? Start from the beginning and please explain it to me in detail.", Castiel asked though the question was being more directed to Sam than Dean. The angel knew from past experience that the younger Winchester was the easier of the two to talk to. Getting Dean to speak about anything serious was like pulling teeth, even if the information had the potential to help the hunter.

So it was no surprise to Castiel when Sam answered first while Dean looked ready to kill something. "It's been going on for a couple of months now.", Sam told him, "Instant healing and increased strength. Oh yeah, no sleeping and eating which is, you know, totally normal.". Sam ignored Dean's glare but the older Winchester still refrained from saying anything. "He's also been hearing voices.".

"Voices?", Castiel's brow furrowed as he turned toward Dean to stare him down.

"Yeah voices. Quite looking at me like that. It is not like they are telling me to do anything.", Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. He ignored how his wings flared out with a sharp melody behind him though he did notice Castiel tracking them with narrowed eyes.

"What do they sound like?", Castiel asked, his words slow and careful as if he were holding back.

"I dunno know.", Dean shrugged, registering the new sensation of doing the once familiar gesture with heavy wings carried upon it. The new weight definitely lending something new to it. "Like music….sorta. It's in a language I don't recognize and before you ask, no, it isn't Latin.".

Dean blinked in surprise when Castiel said something to him oddly familiar, a stream of words that he had only been hearing in his head up till now. "Yeah. That's it.", he perked up with recognition.

"Dean…That's Enochian, the language of angels. You have more than likely listening to the Host.", Castiel said thoughtfully, the angel stepping forward to invade Dean's personal space. The hunter found out that for once he didn't mind if it meant he could be close to the scent that came off of Castiel's skin, sweeter and more heady than any perfume.

"What!? But that's impossible!", Dean tried to mentally right himself, drowning in an alluring odor that was Castiel and weight of the information that was being laid upon him.

"So should this be. I would like to check on something if you will permit it.", Castiel said, moving even closer to Dean, making the hunter's head spin.

"Yeah. Like what?", Dean swallowed hard. He was not liking how much he wanted Castiel to do something, anything really, to him.

"I want to touch your soul.", Castiel intoned. Ok, anything but that.

"Kinky. Can you buy me dinner first?", Dean used his unease to back away from the angel who head tilted in confusion at the hunter only to find Sam beside them now.

"Stop dicking around and let him do it.", Sam snapped, shoving his older brother back toward Castiel. The sudden motion caused Dean's wings to react, making Sam duck and roll as the primary pair almost took him out with a sideswipe that sang menacingly at him.

"We don't have time for all this touchy feely crap.", Dean tried to talk over his wings. In truth, he didn't know if he could handle Castiel touching him right now. If the angel smelled this good up close, there was no telling how wonderful he would feel actually touching him.

"Do you want the wings gone or not?", Sam yelled from the ground, covering his head with his arms as Dean struggled to get himself back under control.

"Fine. Hurry up and get your freak on.", Dean's mouth went dry even as he said it, his mind going into panic mode. If Castiel touched his soul, would he find out about everything? Every confused stray inappropriate thought, yearning, and urge that Dean had ever had about the angel. His moment of pure panic seemed to slow down time as he watched Castiel extend his hand….

….and then it all went white.

Dean found himself staring at a barrier of white, his wings forming a cocoon of glowing light and feather all around him.

"Ummmm Dean. You need to relax if you want to let Castiel check your soul.", Dean could hear Sam say from what sounded a great distance away, muffled by his new protection.

"Sorry.", Dean mumbled as he tried to make his wings stand down. His success was limited, the feather loosening up enough for his head to come into view.

"There is no need to." Castiel said, dropping his hand back down to his side, his demeanor even more serious than before, making it somehow possible.

'Why the hell not? You were all gung-ho a few seconds ago. What changed? If it's the wings, just give me a second. I'm still learning how to control the damn things.", Dean muttered, trying to push his new appendages away from him with his hands with little effect.

"There is simply no need to.", Castiel stated in his obscure manner.

"Yeah, we get that. Now tell us why.", Dean growled, finally managing to move his wings back and away with some effort and good amount of cursing.

"You have Grace.", Castiel said simply, the credence and magnitude of the angel's short statement not lost on the hunters.

"B-but…I thought only angels have that.", Sam stammered, looking back and forth between his brother and Castiel.

"Indeed.", the angel nodded.

"Son of a bitch!"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

SORRY, SORRY! I FORGOT TO PUT SOMETHING ESSENTIAL IN THE STORY!

Warning- Yaoi in upcoming chapters. Yaoi means boy on boy, gay, all hotdogs and no hamburgers.

I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters but thanks for thinking so.

Story is set sometime in Season Six after Sam got his soul back and Eve has made her first appearance. Other than that, I am taking liberties with the season and ignoring the events of how it ended. Read at your own risk. Also this is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"So let me get this straight.", Dean seethed the words through his clenched teeth, "I'm turning into an angel."

"Yes.", Castiel stated simply with a nod as if it were the most natural answer in the world.

"What the hell?! Did I catch some kinda angelic STD or something?", Dean spazzed out, "Cas, did you give me something?"

"Perhaps.", Castiel said in his overly calm manner after a moment of contemplation.

"I knew it! Wait, what?", Dean started to rant but cut himself off at the angel's admittance.

"It was not intentional. I left some of my own Grace within you when I remade your vessel's form.", Castiel explained.

"Don't call it that! It's my body. You remade my body.", Dean snapped, glaring at the angel who looked mournfully back at him.

"Why would you do that? Leave your Grace behind in Dean.", Sam asked as the older Winchester grimaced.

"Don't say it like that. You make it sound all dirty.", Dean muttered, ignoring his wings as they wrapped around him again. "I feel so used."

"You have to understand. Your vesse….your body was just rotten meat being absorbed back into the ground as putrid liquid by the time I brought you back from hell to this plane of existence.", Castiel sighed.

"Well, don't sugar coat it or anything.", Dean muttered, trying not to let his imagination and memory go back six feet under. He remembered the pine box, still had nightmares about it, of being left in it because Castiel wasn't used being on Earth and didn't know any better than not to leave a newly revived human to wake in his own coffin or how traumatizing that might be. Good thing Dean wasn't a normal person.

"I had to remake your entire body. That took time. While I was doing so, I harbored your soul within myself, deep in my true form to be surrounded with my Grace.", Castiel explained, giving Dean a strange expression. If the hunter had to name the emotion behind it, he would have to say that the angel was being bashful.

"Are you trying to tell me that we had sex?", Dean reasoned out for himself.

"No.", was Castiel's answer making Dean let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"Jesus, don't scare me like that…" Dean started to say, much too soon it turned out as Castiel continued to talk.

"It was far more intimate than that.", Castiel told the brothers. Sam started to make a choking sound that suspiciously sounded like an attempt to cover up laughter.

"I guess you came back less himenated than you originally thought.", Sam managed out between badly smothered chuckles.

"Shut up, Sam! Okay. Not the answer I was looking for.", Dean winced, "Whoa, let's back up here. You're a virgin at least you told me that you are a virgin. How the hell doesn't that count?"

"I am a virgin. I have never experienced fornication while wearing a vessel before. I find human's concept of sexual pleasure very limited though. You creatures act like you invented the act of it.", Castiel shook his head, his lips turned up in a half smile of disbelief.

"You're telling us that angels have sex.", Dean said flatly, the baser part of his brain remembering every messed up, religious based porno he had ever seen where the stars had worn wings and wire halos.

"By the loosest concepts of your meager definition for it, yes. Though I doubt you would recognize it or even be able to visualize it with your limited senses.", Castiel admitted with a small shake of his head.

"Moving on cause I don't think I can handle any more news about angel nookie, you remade my body from scratch. So why the hell did you leave that damn handprint on it?", Dean wondered, his hand reaching up to touch the now golden mark upon his shoulder.

"As you know now, the other angel wanted to take a more direct approach with you to make you give your consent into becoming Michael's vessel.", Castiel said, "I left the handprint infused with my Grace as a reminder to them that you were in my care and under my protection."

"So you left a hickey on me?", Dean groaned, letting his hand drop away.

"That's what you got from that?", Sam scoffed.

"I have no idea what that is.", Castiel shook his head.

"Never mind.", Dean snorted, "So just take it back. Your Grace thing."

"I can not.", Castiel said in a firm tone.

"Well, why the hell not? Do you need my consent or something? You got it! Go nuts!", Dean said quickly.

"What part of 'I can not' do you not understand?", Castiel sighed, "It has bonded itself to you."

Dean blinked in confusion before turning to his brother. "Sammie, are you getting any of this cause I'm lost.".

"Well…..I think I got an idea…it's just an idea though.", Sam bit his bottom lip in thought, "You were supposed to be Michael's vessel so that makes you the perfect bodily container for an angel, especially one of the most powerful, an archangel. It's meant to contain and store that Grace, right? Everyone following me?". Sam waited under he got a nod from Dean. Castiel just stared at him.

"Ok, Castiel put his Grace into you and left it there with your soul. Still good?", Sam reasoned out for himself and everyone else.

"Yeah, so?", Dean shook his head.

"Don't you get it? Your body was a petri dish and Castiel's Grace was like some bacteria added to it, and add a dash of your soul as some sort of nutritional supplement. It was then left there on its own. No wonder it went nuts and grew mold.", Sam finished, running his hands through his hair. He was met with a tense silence before Dean turned on Castiel.

"Cas! You gotta fix this and I mean now! I am not gonna turn into mold cause you got frisky with my insides.", Dean yelled, "I'm not turning into some douche bag!" .

"Too late.", Sam snorted.

"Not helping, Sam. I am not going to turn into mold, damn it! How do we fix this?!", Dean yelled. He found that he was having problems standing upright again. Apparently his wings were not happy campers because all six started to flap around again, kicking up dirt and dew. The sounds coming off of them sounded like wind chimes made of razors.

"I told you. I can not. I am sorry, Dean.", Castiel said solemnly, the angel moving out of the way in fluid movements while Sam dived to eat earth again.

"What is frigging wrong with these things? Why won't they stop!", Dean yelled over the music of his flailing limbs. The hunter became aware of several things all at once, the first and foremost was that Castiel was very close to him now, the pair standing chest to chest. The other was that the angel was reaching over his shoulders to grip his most top pair of wings where the feather transitioned into skin. The reaction to the hold was almost instantaneous, Dean sagging forward in sudden relief. He would have keeled over if not for Castiel bracing up his limp body. Not that Dean was complaining. His nose was back in the crook of Castiel's neck, devouring the scent there as he rubbed his face against pale cool skin. He held onto the angel like he was drowning, his fingers digging into the tan trench coat until they curled into the flesh underneath all the layers. All the while, Dean could feel Castiel stroking his wings, running his fingers through the shimmering feathers that sounded sweetly once again to his touch.

"Your wings are reacting to your emotional state. You will learn over time to control it. Until then, they will be sensitive to sudden changes in your demeanor.", Castiel said softly, his breath fluttering over Dean's oversensitive skin. The hunter could barely keep himself from moaning out loud from it as he started to mouth the angel's throat. He was aware of his wings curving in around them both to embrace Castiel close. Dean knew because he could somehow feel where every feather touched the angel and he wanted all of them to do just that, right down to the littlest piece of fluff on his wings. Castiel's words resonated within Dean's head though, pulling him out of his enamored state.

"Cas, I don't want to learn how. Just fix me already.", Dean gasped, trying to regain some sort of control as he lifted his head up to drag his cheek alongside Castiel's, feeling the angel's semi permanent five o'clock shadow against his skin. Even that felt beyond wonderful, the contrasting textures sending waves of pleasure up and down his plaint body.

"It's not that easy. You are moss now.", Castiel intoned, his gravely voice resonating deep down to touch Dean's core pleasantly as his touch leaving off the top most pair of wings to move on down to the larger primary set. Dean's wings enveloped around them tighter, new sensations making white star bursts appear behind Dean's eyelids in rapid succession. It was like his feathers were nerve ending wired directly into his brain now and he could feel everything down to the ridges of Castiel's fingerprints as they ran over his feathers making them chime like bells made of crystal.. He knew his lower body was responding to the strange attention but Dean was too far gone to care at the moment.

For the first time in a long time, he felt safe, so safe. Dean didn't get to feel that way often, not with his life. It felt good. It was foreign enough feeling that it made him feel suspicious, wary enough that he pushed back against Castiel so that he could look him in the eye. "What?", he managed out.

"I think he means…..", Sam said from somewhere on the ground, reminding the pair that he was still there.

"I know what he means, Sam! Forget about the damn moss!", Dean latched onto his anger like a baby to a bottle, using it to free himself from Castiel. He stumbled back even as every nerve ending in his body screamed at him, his feathers struggling to linger over Castiel's form and cup it with the edges of its quills. Dean's control roared at them and the appendages shivered in compliance as they folded up neatly against Dean's back. He kept his gaze turned toward the ground, wondering what Castiel's expression was but lacked the courage to see it for himself. "I am not going to become a fungus, angel, or whatever. This is just like any other possession. We'll find the right spell and bleach it out of me, cause that is what we do."

"You don't understand. This is not a part that you can dispose of. You can not amputate it. It is you.", Castiel said patiently.

"I am not becoming an angel!", Dean spat out the words, looking up to challenge Castiel's words. He was not prepared to be met with such a look of unfathomably sorrow only an angel can give. "A-anna.", Dean stammered, "She tore out her grace and became human. I can do that too."

"Anna was a very powerful angel who existed before time was time. You are newly born. To put it into terms you will understand, you would be about as successful doing that as a baby would trying to drive your car.", Castiel said without a shred of doubt held in his voice.

"Dean, you can't do that to yourself!", Sam started to say.

"Everyone shut up!", Dean yelled to be met blissfully by silence. "Cas?"

"…"

"…"

"Oh for the love of, Cas you can talk. I just wanted your full attention."

"Then why did you tell me…."

Dean somehow managed not to tear his hair out in frustration. Sometimes it was really like dealing with a baby in a trench coat. "Never mind that. You said I got Grace, right?". Castiel nodded back. "Well, I'm saying I can't cause I don't believe in God so suck on that bit of truth. You gotta believe in God to be a freaking angel and I don't fit the bill. Can't get into the cult without the brain washing. I didn't drink any Kool-aid so it will just go away, right?".

"I do not understand how a beverage plays into this but that is not true. You must believe in God or pray in some manner for the Grace I placed within you to grow and flourish.", Castiel shook his head.

"Nope. Not a snowballs' chance in hell. I don't pray to anyone who doesn't give a flying fuck about me and everyone else on the planet to let it all burn.", Dean stated firmly.

"Dean.", The older Winchester hated it when his younger brother said his name that way, in that tone. It always meant something horribly bad for either one of them. "I think I've figured it out."

"Figured what out, Sammie?", Dean licked his lips. They felt dry. Even if he was turning ethereal, his lips were going to be moist, damn it.

"You pray to Castiel.", Sam said looking more worried than usual.

"Yeah, so? So what if I do? I'm not exactly devout.", Dean shrugged the notion off.

"But Castiel does. He believes in God.", Sam finished his thought.

"Son of a bitch.", Dean swore with real feeling, "Oh shit, so I got this from cross contamination."

"Dean, it's not the flu. You're an angel now.", Sam said, his voice filled with wonder and more than a touch of awe. Dean wanted to beat it out of him.

"I can't be a freaking angel! Who's ever heard of an angel named Dean!?", Dean yelled at him instead.

Dean found that he couldn't breath properly, the air not working in and out of his lungs like it should. That in itself should have bothered him but it was more the sensation that he didn't need to that really put him off. There was no burning in his chest, no tightness, he was not light headed or dizzy, nothing. Something broke within Dean when he realized he didn't have to breathe anymore. White noise settled in all around Dean, making him momentarily blind and deaf.

"Dean….."

After a while, it could have been a minute or a month, the hunter turned angel become aware that someone was saying his name over and over again. It took Dean a moment to recognize it as Castiel and that the angel sounded actually upset.

"Dean, you need to calm down….", was what Dean managed to make out through the haze that surrounded him.

"Screw you. I am calm.", Dean muttered, feeling his world tilt sideways again. He didn't need to breathe anymore. That was a major whammy in his book.

"…..Or else you will end up killing Sam accidentally with your Grace when you release it.".

It was then that Dean realized that his wings, his skin, everything about him and of him was glowing and that Sam had his face covered with his arms. His brother was screaming.

Dean being Dean did the first thing that came to his mind.

He left.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Warning- Yaoi in upcoming chapters. Yaoi means boy on boy, gay, all hotdogs and no hamburgers.

I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters but thanks for thinking so.

Story is set sometime in Season Six after Sam got his soul back and Eve has made her first appearance. Other than that, I am taking liberties with the season and ignoring the events of how it ended. Read at your own risk. Also this is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Screaming felt good. Really good. The super cool air that sparkled with all ice crystals in it felt even better against Dean's skin. Part of his mind wondered just how low Sam had jacked the A/C. Other more rational areas of reasoning were trying to explain away why all the clouds around him were disintegrating at a very alarming rate. It was enough to shut Dean up and actually take notes of his surroundings.

That and there were clouds, which meant…..

"Frigging hell.", Dean yelped as he nose dived into an all out freefall through the wild blue yonder, swift sharp air whistling through his limbs and wings as he plummeted. Some sort of subconscious muscle memory of flight, or just plain and simple self preservation kicked in, sending Dean shooting back upward until he found himself floating aloft upon turbulent upper atmosphere currents with surprising ease.

"Hello Dean.", Castiel said from suddenly right beside him. Dean ended up flipping head over heel, literally, in surprise. "Are you alright?". Even up here it would seem that the angel couldn't grasp the idea of personal space. Dean didn't even realize that he was screaming again until he noticed that Castiel was wincing from it and another passing cloud imploded upon itself.

"Please stop screaming. You will draw unwanted attention to our whereabouts from the Host.", Castiel said in his usual overly careful manner. Dean stared back at him with wide eyes, mostly because he was having this conversation among the clouds and he wasn't too hot on the whole idea of flying thing to begin with. Mostly though it was because Castiel's wings were not only out but were totally visible to Dean. The hunter had only seen them before back dropped by lightening so that they appeared to be made of shadow and moving shade.

Castiel's wings were quite solid now and blacker then Dean could have ever imagined possible. Each feather was a rainbow oil slick, all the glistening colors trapped and twisted dark. It was possibly one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever laid eyes on, like a dark prism somehow crafted from fire opal and onyx. "Y-your wings….", Dean stammered, his mouth suddenly going very dry with want, desire so thick it was choking him. All he could think about at the moment was how good it would feel to drag his fingers through those glinting midnight feathers.

"I thought it would be safe to show you them since you harbor your own Grace now.", Castiel said, unfurling them farther as if to show all his plumage off at once. Dean stared back in awe as he mentally floundered, at a total loss of sufficient words to express himself. He was a hunter, damn it, not a poet. Dean would have given his right arm to stop tripping over his own tongue. He couldn't let himself gush over the angel's dark wings like a little girl over an unicorn but he felt like he had to say something in appreciation toward them.

"They're beau…black. Yup, black.". If Dean ever felt like punching himself in the side of the head, it was now as he felt himself committing a grievous 'I just kicked a puppy' life fail. Those words were not even close to what he wanted to say. Even worse, Castiel seemed to take them personally to heart in the wrong sort of way.

"I have fallen and have been through the hellfire of the pit. My wings have not been white since I laid my hand upon you.", Castiel said softly, the angel looking away with an unreadable expression. His wings lowered themselves in what Dean could only guess was a sullen expression in wing language.

"Crap….I didn't mean it like that, Cas.", Dean ran his hands through his hair in frustration, guilt threatening to over well him along with everything else going on. "I'm sorry.", Dean finally managed to say, feeling miserable and sick of himself. Looking down turned out to be a bad idea though because if was a long fall to earth from where he was standing…..floating, flying, whatever. The only other person here to focus on was Castiel and that was just too painful to do at the moment so Dean chose to close his eyes instead to work out his own personal turbulence.

A gentle touch, fleeting and soft, was placed on his cheek, making Dean look up into beautiful crystal blue eyes. "It's fine. I prefer my wings this way. I think it suits me better.", Castiel's lips twitching up into that half smile Dean so rarely got to see and secretly lived for.

"Ummmm…..can I ask you a question?", Dean hated to break the comfortable silence growing between them.

"You just did.", Castiel pointed out, making Dean roll his eyes.

"Cute. You been taking lessons from Sammie? Don't answer that. That's not my real question. Can you tell me why I have three pairs of wings and you only seem to have the one? Unless you're hiding them.", Dean asked, nodding his head toward the angel's singular pair.

"You are part of a higher order of angels. If you were among ranks, you would be considered a general. In comparison, I am just a captain, a foot soldier if you will. Less power equals fewer wings.", Castiel explained with a shrug, making his wings move in an alluring manner that caught Dean's eye.

"So I'm like a big Kahuna?", Dean said thoughtfully, his gaze locked and tracking the movement of the black wings before him. He didn't care if he was openly admiring Castiel's wings or if the angel acknowledged it, which given their history was more than likely he wouldn't.

"I do not understand that reference.", Castiel's brow furrowing in confusion.

"I'm a bad ass? Big dog in charge? Top cheese? You know, a boss?", Dean tried to clarify.

"In the Host and at your level, you would have command over several garrison of angels.", Castiel answered, finally catching on.

'Sweet. Now answer me this. How did I get here?", Dean asked, motioning to their cloud space.

"You flew.", Castiel said simply.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. How exactly?", Dean barely managed to keep himself from face palming.

"With your wings.", Castiel seemed to be stuck on making Dean's life as difficult as possible.

"Cas, we are going to have a real problem here if you don't start helping me out.", Dean growled, crossing his arms over his chest. He felt ridiculous floating in the sky with no shirt on while having this conversation.

"Then ask better questions. You did not wish to destroy Sam with your Grace so you sought out refuge elsewhere. It was an intelligent decision on your part, considering your true voice is starting to emerge.", Castiel told him.

"You mean that's why I've been making clouds explode?", Dean hazarded a guess.

"An angel's voice can have an interesting effect on this physical realm.", Castiel nodded in agreement. "It will sound different to you if you let yourself hear it. It is quite beautiful even at high volume.".

That statement alone brought Dean back to the predicament at hand, somehow making it feel all the more real. Not breathing, having a subsonic voice, seeing Castiel's wings. He was in deep and losing sight of daylight the further in he went.

"How do I fix this?", Dean asked, trying and failing to keep the notes of panic and desperation out of his voice. The morose look that his angel gave him did nothing to alleviate these notions.

"You do not.", Castiel said gently. Dean would have preferred a harsher answer, a nastier tone. Something, anything he could get mad at and clear his head but Castiel floated quietly beside him with his shoulders slumped forward as if Dean's burden was his own.

"I can't…..I don't want this. Can you understand that? It's too big.", Dean laughed out of stress and other realizations, "Damn it, I have died, been to Hell, survived the Apocalypse, and I'm telling you that this is too big for me. I can't become an angel."

"Why not?", Castiel titled his head to the side and Dean found himself still loving the angel for it. He wondered if he would pick up the habit himself.

"You wanna know why? Because I'm scared, damn it. There I said it. Happy now?", Dean sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides as he gestured helplessly about. "I'm scared as hell."

"Why does becoming an angel frighten you? They are some who pray for such a fate.", Castiel asked, his tone sincere and ever so calm. Dean could almost hate him for it but further thought reminded Dean that the angel had several millennia of experience to pull from. It was just not human experience.

"Oh I don't know. Besides the whole civil war going on in heaven and Eve trying to take over the earth through monster infections, you're right. I should be feeling just peachy about it.", Dean ranted, "I don't know if you've noticed but us humans are kinda attached to having these things called feelings and emotions. We don't like becoming robots as any sci-fi movie will tell you."

"You think that angels do not….feel?", Castiel frowned, the expression looking mildly pained on the angel's face.

"Oh no. You're all a roit.", Dean rolled his eyes, his foremost thoughts going to the dead angel Uriel who in Dean's opinion had all the loveable personality traits of a stagnant tubeworm. "Seriously Cas, I've seen statues emote more emotions than you angels.".

"We feel although we experience emotions more intensely than you do. If a human's want is a flame, in comparison an angel's want would be a forest fire covering most of what you consider NorthWest seaboard of America.", Castiel said, looking anything but emotional.

"I'll believe it when I see it. As far as I'm concerned, demons are more trustworthy than angels.", Dean scoffed, shaking his head in disgust until he noticed Castiel's taken aback expression.

"You expect a demon to lie and screw you over the first chance that it gets. That and they don't sugar coat anything when it comes down to brass tacks.", Dean explained, "Angels though…Shit, you guys have so much good press, any sad sack is willing to bend over backwards and take it up the ass from you flyboys before they realize just how screwed they are."

"Is that the way you feel about me as well? I have lied to you…..threatened you…..", Castiel said hesitantly, peering up at Dean with those gorgeous eyes, their shade more azure that cerulean now. In a way, Dean was glad he didn't need to breathe any more.

"No.", Dean said quickly. Punch himself in the head? More like choke himself out. It appeared he doomed never to be able to say the right thing. "You're different, Cas. You've always been special."

"Is that a good thing? Being different?", Castiel whispered, looking at the hunter with a guarded expression, one that Dean wanted to erase from his handsome features.

"Yeah, it is.", Dean assured him quickly before he got too embarrassed to continue so he latched onto a topic he still curious on. "So tell me about when we did it. I would like to know when and where I got touched by an angel in my no-no spots."

"It was nowhere as lewd as you are making it out to be.", Castiel sighed, "I simply found the Righteous Man already beginning to tarnish. It was necessary duty.".

"I was a pity fuck?! Dean Winchester is nobody's pity fuck!", Dean snapped, down right furious now. A man had to have standards and Dean was by no means modest. When someone got boffed by him, they sure as shit knew it.

"You were in no state, physical or otherwise, to show off your sexual prowess at the time. Your soul needed purification to remove the taint of the pit and I was the only one who could do it. If I had put your soul back into your body the way that I had found it, you would have never survived. Your mind would have been lost to the rack of Hell forever.", Castiel explained, soothing Dean's hackles a bit.

"So, what? You screwed me back into sanity?", Dean snorted. He reasoned there were harsher cures.

"Crudely put. It was so much more than that. I placed you within myself, in the heart of my Grace to protect, cleanse, and heal you.", Castiel said with that rare half smile of his that made Dean's heart feel like it was doing back flips in the chest.

Dean's mind ignored what his heart was doing as it took a turn of its own, a bad one. "Do you ever think by doing that I might have poisoned the well?", Dean asked slowly, already feeling the poison of guilt rushing through his veins. The very idea of it made Dean feel beyond sick but the angel hadn't fallen all on his own.

"I do not understand. Speak plainly.", Castiel looked at Dean sharply, his mouth set in a grim line.

"I made you fall.", Dean clarified, his voice coming out harsher than he would have liked, "I broke something in you."

"It worked out.", Castiel said simply, shrugging carelessly as if they were speaking of pie and nonsense instead of the angel's fall from grace and repeated death. The very human gesture making Dean laughed out loud despite his growing fears and renewed bout of self hatred. Castiel's smile melted the rest away, the angel looking very pleased with himself about something.

In that moment between them, Dean noticed that damnable scent again coming from Castiel. It was made all the worse being moved about back and forth by the flutter of their wings. Before he could stop himself, Dean leaned in to rest his head on Castiel's shoulder, inhaling deeply as he did so.

"Do all angels smell as good as you do?', Dean sighed. He hoped not. The thought of those asshats angels Uriel and Zachariah smelling as delicious as his Castiel really pissed him off for some other reason besides the obvious. His treacherous hands were already wrapping themselves around the angel, one looping around Castiel's neck while the other rested at his waist. Dean pulled the angel closer to him before he remembered about such concepts as personal space. Dean froze in place, trying to think of how he was going to play this off. Or was until he became aware of the placement of Castiel's own hands coming to rest upon the sloped curve of his hips.

"No, they do not.", Castiel said in a low voice that made Dean shiver from the heated possessiveness he heard in it.

"Why don't you push me away? Tell me not to touch you?", Dean murmured, running his lips over the soft pale skin of Castiel's neck.

"Because I like your scent as well.", Castiel arched his neck, baring his throat to Dean who shuddered in want at the freely given offering.

"What do I smell like?", Dean whispered, pressing kisses to the smooth expanse of skin laid out before him.

"Apples…..spices…..iron….blood.", Castiel gasped between amorous assaults, his answers sounding like they were being jerked from somewhere deep within him.

"Why do you smell so good to me, angel? Tell me.", Dean mouthed, his kisses getting wider and wetter with each pass.

"Because I am yours.", Castiel moaned, his hands leaving off of Dean's hips to move to the small of his back, rubbing small circles there into the sun kissed skin.

"W-what?", Dean sputtered as Castiel raised his hand to fit it over the brand on the hunter's shoulder in answer. Light, sensation, and something deeper, more visceral than either roared through Dean, setting his body on fire. It was a sharp pain that made him gasp that was embedded in rich pleasure, thick as chocolate and heady as aged liqueur. Whether it took a minute or a lifetime, Dean recognized it for what is was. It made him regret all the times that he had wasted when he could have been spending it with his angel.

"It's always the quiet ones. How long? How long have you loved me?", Dean gasped, arching into marrow deep twisted pain and pleasure from Castiel's touch, the hunter throwing his head back with his wings, all six of them on full display and playing out a melody that sounded like it was made from plucked spider silk strings and tiny silver bells.

"Since the beginning. How could I not?", Castiel said, leaning into Dean's taunt body until their lips were only a few mere centimeters apart. He seemed unwilling or unable to break the last boundary between them and it was driving Dean crazy.

"Why didn't you tell me? You know I am kinda dense and a whole lot stubborn.", Dean shuddered as another wave of warped passion moved through him. He could believe now that angels could feel. Castiel's desire for him felt like it was tearing Dean apart from the inside out but in a pleasant manner. Jealousy and possessiveness over other being's attentions, good or bad, toward the hunter warred directly with a love what was near blinding in its sheer magnitude alone and a desire that threatened to consume Dean like flame, it was so greedy for his notice and touch of flesh.

"It was not my place. You deserved the freedom you fought for so hard.", Castiel whispered because Dean was giving as good as he got, the hunter pushing all of his pent up want and desire through the connection between them.

Dean broke first, throwing caution to the wind as he covered Castiel's mouth with his own in a sweet kiss, only drawing back long enough to get in the last word between them.

"I want you more."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Warning- Yaoi in upcoming chapters. Yaoi means boy on boy, gay, all hotdogs and no hamburgers.

I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters but thanks for thinking so.

Story is set sometime in Season Six after Sam got his soul back and Eve has made her first appearance. Other than that, I am taking liberties with the season and ignoring the events of how it ended. Read at your own risk. Also this is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The kiss was shorter than Dean would have liked, Castiel shoving the hunter back with such a force that it sent Dean spinning away, his wings desperately trying to coordinate with themselves to keep himself upright.

Before Dean could properly argue and vent his opinion on this coarse treatment, he was blinded by a bolt of light that came between them. Dean watched in horror as Castiel took the brunt of the hit that was meant for him, the angel screaming out in pain as he was seared by the wave of heaven fire. The harsh pained sound went straight to Dean's heart, tearing it asunder as his mind reeled with the recognition of it.

Castiel's voice, his true voice, was no longer the ear gutting screech that shattered glass and played merry hell with electronics like it had been in the past on earth. What struck Dean most about the sound of Castiel's voice was the aching familiarity of it. His angel was the one who Dean had heard first whispering Enochian in his head, singing as if only to him and the one who had lulled him into peaceful sleep when he still could. Dean knew now that it had been all this time and even more so, Castiel had been right all along.

An angel's true voice was a thing of beauty, a perfection of sound wrought too fine for the human ear to not only comprehend but appreciate. The notes of pain it held now within it hollowed Dean out from the inside, making every nerve sing in aggrieved tune with it. He could recognized it, know it anywhere as the cry of his angel, his mate.

The hunter turned angel, ever the warrior in whatever form he took, spun around to face their attacker. To his dismay, Dean found that they were surrounded by four other angels and worst of all, an archangel, the big bad being Raphael himself. His six wings looked made of a silvery metal that flowed like mercury and sparked with lightening that shot off of his feathers with every movement. The other angels with golden blades in hand sported only a single pair each, their wings sleek and white looking made more of bleached bone than feather.

Risking a quick look, Dean noted that Castiel was still with them though he was clutching his arm tightly against his side, the appendage covered in his own shining blood. Despite his injuries, the dark winged angel still looked ready to fight. Dean couldn't have felt more proud of him considering that their number one pain in the ass was backed by four super soldiers of Heaven's army against their handicapped party of two, composed of Castiel bleeding out and Dean still learning his wings. All in all it could be worse, he reflected to himself, Dean remembered having shoddier odds in the past. There was a chance, though slim that is was, that they could deal and maybe even survive this. Hell, they were both angels…kinda….maybe…sorta…one and a half angels. Dean wasn't too sure where he fell in that category yet. If they survived this, maybe Cas could tell him how to pull a miracle out of his ass.

"No reason to get jealous, sweetheart. If you wanted a kiss that badly, all you had to do was ask.", Dean called out with a wink to Raphael who was still wearing his female vessel.

"Dean Winchester. Why does it not surprise me that you have became an abomination worse than even that of your own hell spawn brother.", Raphael looked down his vessel's elegant nose at the pair, "And Castiel. It is of even lesser surprise to me to find the Fallen debasing themselves to this monster. It will be pleasure to destroy you both in the name of our Father.".

"You talk too much for someone who's had their ass handed to them repeatedly by a fallen angel and a pair of mud monkeys.", Dean smirked, trying to keep his cool and provoke the archangel into making a mistake. Whether they knew it or not, in Dean's mind, Bond villains and angels seemed to live by the famous mantra 'Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall'.

"Kill them.", Raphael sneered, waved off his agents toward them, "I will not do them the honor.".

Not exactly what he was going for, but good enough, Dean thought as he watched the angels totally dismiss his presence and go after Castiel, Raphael's agents smelling his blood and pain on the wind like any predator would. The angels made the mistake of turning their backs on Dean which was not a good idea when he had been just human. It was an even worse move now as Dean moved forward with a speed he didn't know he had, his mind whirling even faster than the beating of his wings. Unarmed and out of his element(literally), he only had the angels' arrogance as some sort of advantage to go on. Besides that, Dean had not idea what he was doing but when had that ever detoured a Winchester on a mission.

Flying on instinct alone and fueled by a keen determination to save Castiel, Dean hit the first angel within his reach head on, essentially tackling it. Graceful- not in the least. Effective-oh hell yes. Dean caught the angel off guard, surprising him enough to stab the ethereal warrior through the gut with his own golden blade. As the dead angel fell away, Dean relieved him of his weapon and moved on to his next target.

This time though the other angel was ready for him. They were both surprised when one of Dean's primary wings swung forward and sliced through the angel's torso as easily as if it were made of paper. "Awesome.", Dean grinned, though there was no real humor in the expression. Moving again before the destroyed vessel even had time to fall away and ignoring the immaculate blood that coated his feathers, Dean turned to find Castiel holding his own against the other two angels even while he was one handed, the dark winged angel ducking and dodging with a grace that was awing.

Improving the odds, Dean dove at them with all his wings angled forward like six sabers, willing to risk it all on a hunch. He crashed into one of the angel's backs to eviscerate their enemy with his wings, sending light filled blood everywhere in fine mist that resembled stardust. It was terribly messy and Dean had no idea what he was doing or how he was doing it, but a hunter and especially a Winchester knew how to use any weapon to their advantage no matter how strange. Distracted by his dying companion's screams of agony, the last angel was easily dispatched by Castiel's blade, the weapon ran neatly through the neck in a near decapitation. Despite their dire situation, Dean was amused to observe that Castiel killed as neat and tidy as he did anything else.

The small hairs raising on the back of Dean's neck and arms was all the fair warning he got before the pair were hit by another blast of white hot plasma causing Dean to move on pure instinct alone as self preservation kicked in like a bitch. His wings moved over them on their own accord to encase Castiel and himself in their protection as feathers wove together with the strident sounds of blades made of steel and obsidian before the outer layer solidified to a jewel like perfection of protection.

The small space between them in the cocoon was white, dazzling in its purity and glittering with shards of bright colored lights that were being cast off by Dean's feathers while darker colors were being refracted by Castiel's wings. It was like being in the heart of a star made of black diamond and padded with velvet. "Hey, are you alright?", Dean asked as he felt them being pelted by ethereal energy from a very angry Raphael, heavy and bright as a meteor shower. To Dean's surprise and great relief, the assault barely made his feathers tingle. If anything, Dean thought it kind of tickled.

"I will heal. What is happening?", Castiel asked. His midnight wings were folded up tightly against his back though Dean's crystal like feathers kept trying to link with his chaos onyx shaded own. It was distracting because Castiel wanted to giving into the impulse to lose himself completely especially when he could smell his own scent of saltwater rain and ozone mingling with Dean's heady scent of bloody apples and iron spice. It was neither the time or place for it though so Castiel kept his wings to himself…for the moment.

"Well if I had to guess, I would have to say that Raphael is throwing one hell of a bitch fit right now at us. Good thing my wings are still under warranty.", Dean smirked. He was definitely liking how close they were to each other now, his arms wrapped around Castiel at his neck and waist, their legs intertwining together. It would have been perfect if not for the raging archangel trying to annihilate them and the wet wound in Castiel's side coating Dean's bare skin.

"Now that we aren't going to die immediately, let's see if we can patch up that bleeder up.", Dean said, shifting the angel in his arms better to see his injury without letting go of him. Castiel expectantly looked up at him as if Dean had all the answers for him.

"I got nothing. Any ideas?", Dean grinned helplessly. Castiel rolled his eyes with an expression of such exasperated disgust that was so human like it made the hunter laugh out loud despite everything going on. With a tired sigh, the angel raised his hand to fit it over his handprint, branded gold now on Dean's shoulder to grip it tight. Instantly, they felt their connection just as vivid as before but this time tempered with something other than lust. They needed to win this fight or Raphael would kill them for sure, but Dean wasn't about to let that happen, not now, not ever. He pushed this sentiment back through the link, tempering it with his iron willed determination. Not when he finally had someone to fight for other than his brother. Castiel was family now and to a Winchester, especially Dean, there was no higher accolade in the world, heaven, or hell than that honorific.

Unable to resist his allure and the call of his being any more, Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead, noticing that his angel was healed now through their connection. Even his trench coat looked clean again. "So Cas…..why do you smell so good to me and why can I heal you? And have you been talking to me the entire time I was morphing in a frigging angel?", Dean asked, not bothered at all by the fact that they were still in the middle of a firefight.

"Do you really think that this is the most opportune time to discuss these matters?", Castiel stared back at him incredulously. Dean shrugged carelessly before nodding his head in definite answer. If anything, it felt completely normal to him, almost like home in a way. Under fire was where Dean had most of his heart to hearts with his family after all and worked out a number of his issues.

"No but when is it ever? Humor me and explain why I want to bend you over the nearest cloud in the worst possible way.", Dean grinned, his tone teasing and light. He was finding it hard to focus on anything else but the angel in front of him, too busy wondering how Castiel would taste or even better, sound squirming underneath him.

"It is because I am your Intended…..your mate.", Castiel admitted, the angel's words making Dean's heart sing and certain soft flesh begin to harden. He was liking the sound of this more and more. "You heard me because I sing to you.". Expect for that.

"So you knew I was turning into an angel and you didn't try to stop it?", Dean's brain short circuited a bit, his being not liking the sound of betrayal even if it was being committed by Castiel. The angel must of sensed his discomfort through their connection or scent because Dean found his face being cupped gently by Castiel, forcing the hunter to look steadily at him.

"Dean, I have sung to you every night since I pulled you from Perdition.", Castiel said softly, staring up with such wide eyed sincerity that Dean had to look away. When he found he could not do that, he shut his eyes as Castiel's words continued. "If I had known, I would have done everything in my power to stop it, to spare you this fate. Why did you not call me sooner?".

"Because…Because…", Dean stammered, leaning forward to touch his forehead to his angel's. He was moved by Castiel's words beyond language of his own and felt in a way, he should have already known that. Dean wished he knew how to do the angel head communication thing because he really didn't know how to express himself in an intelligible manner ever in tender moments like this. "Because I am an idiot that's why. I didn't want to bother you with my problems cause I knew you were dealing with all the civil war crap and….."

"And you are an idiot.", Castiel finished for him but his tone sounded fond instead of hurt as he stroked his hunter's stubble with light fingertips. The slight movements moved that intoxicating scent even closer than before. It felt like it was being smothered into his face, Dean catching Castiel's hand in his own so that he could nip at the angel's palm in mild retribution. He was delighted to find that Castiel's skin tasted slightly sweet when he ran his tongue over the captured meat.

"Stop doing that. You're driving me crazy.", Dean growled, letting his teeth follow through, enough to mark but not bleed. He heard Castiel's breath catch in response to the pressure of his porcelain. Feathers rustling all around them, Dean could feel his wings trying to force Castiel's own to blend their plumages in with one another so that their wings overlapped. This time though, his efforts were not in vain, the angel's inky wings working themselves in between Dean's multiple prism pairs. Dean and Castiel groaned out in pleasure from it, the sensations unexpected with an overwhelming intensity that left them both panting. Their wings continued to knit together, forming an even tighter barrier around them as Dean and Castiel writhed and spasmed as new connections were made between them.

"I will continue to do so until you claim me or I you.", Castiel breathed out, the warm air of it making Dean's face tingle and sent a warmth twisting down into his gut, the sensation of it moving straight to his groin. "Your own scent is very…stimulating.". Giving in to his wants, the angel ended the meager space between them, the lines of their bodies flush so that Dean could feel just how 'stimulating' his scent was to him. Dean gasped, titling his head back as their mutual hardness met, seeking friction from their contact and through their clothing.

"Aw shit…..we have the worst timing, you know that? You do remember the uber pissed off archangel trying to roast us alive from the inside out, right?", Dean managed to push the words past his teeth, trying to make his mouth work properly. To his surprise, Castiel was not letting up or backing off. If anything, the mention of their imminent destruction seemed to press him more forward, Castiel's hands running through his hair as his fingertips explored every inch of his scalp.

"Yes, but the probability of us being smited is quite high so I would rather do this now.", Castiel answered him by thinking away all their clothing, their too warm skin finally making contact with one another.

"You have got to teach me how to do that.", Dean was able to roughly chuckle out before his mouth was claimed by Castiel with force though his kiss was too wet and uncoordinated to be considered good. What he lacked in experience, Castiel definitely made up for in enthusiasm. It also reminded the hunter how untested the angel was with his vessel or at least doing it on this plane of existence. Dean found himself wondering what it was actually like doing the nasty as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. A nip on his bottom lip reminded Dean that he was very much on this plain of existence, kissing Castiel, and they were both hard to the point of painful.

Grabbing their erections in his war callused hands, Dean reveled in the sight of Castiel reacting from it as the angel arched his back away as far as he could within the walls of their feather cocoon while he cried out in pleasure. His true voice filled the narrow space between them, bright and clear. The sound of it almost made up for the loss of Castiel's lips upon his own.

Freeing one hand that was glistening slick with precum, Dean grabbed the back of Castiel's neck to pull the angel roughly forward to him, sealing their lips in a searing rough kiss as Dean squeezed their hardness together. Their shafts were wet with their own juices, the salty smell of it mingling with their scents as they slid freely against one another seeking friction. "Damn it! I want to take you on a bed. Do this properly your first time.", Dean rasped out as they parted, the hunter controlling his reactions better than Castiel as the angel shamelessly bucked into his hand, using his hands on Dean's broad shoulders as leverage.

"This is better. Angels have little use for beds.", Castiel gasped, his too blue eyes blown dark from his open desire and his chapped lips shiny from licking them brazenly in want. The angel looked so debauched in his lust that Dean almost came from that alone, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood to maintain control.

"I love you.", Dean whispered, mouthing the words against Castiel's lips so that the angel could taste them fully, savoring the truth and the passion that lay within those three little words, the trio he had so rarely spoken to any living being. It was enough to bring Castiel fully, the angel screaming out his pleasure as he covered Dean's hand with thick milky fluid. It was the most beautiful sound the hunter had ever heard, the intensity of it shaking him to the very marrow of his bones as he felt Castiel shakily cling to his body as he thrust helplessly against Dean's callused palm and rock solid erection. It was stunning to behold, his angel in the throes of ecstasy.

Too soon, Dean was brought back to reality by cool hands encircling his still throbbing cock. He stared down in amazement to find his still recovering angel struggling to return the favor, his touch moving up and down Dean's shaft at a fervent pace. The rapturous sight was blocked from view as Castiel moved to place his lips against Dean's own again, reminding the hunter that those talented hands were still attached to someone.

"And I you. From the first touch when I raised you from the Pit and now until the end of days. You and I, together forever as long as God and Grace permits.", Castiel promised solemnly in tones far too serious for this moment, his gravely voices stroking places deep within Dean. It pulled his orgasm from him, far too early for his own liking but Dean was never one to deny himself pleasure. Castiel hungrily swallowed his cries of ecstasy, sealing their lips together so that the angel could drink in Dean's bliss note for note.

"Oh God….", Dean moaned, letting his head loll back as he rode out the remainder of his release, his hips still rising and falling from it.

"You should try to avoid blasphemies, considering what you have become.", Castiel sighed, slumping forward so that Dean could take his weight as he mojoed away the sticky mess between them.

"Like your Dad is going to get off his deadbeat ass to smite me. Anyway I believe in you, not him.", Dean mused, wrapping his arms tightly around his angel, his mate. He promised himself that as soon as they got back down to earth, they were going to do this again on every surface available and in every position possible as long as their angelic stamina and healing held out.

"I find it disconcerting especially in this type of situation so please try to refrain for my sake.", Castiel grumbled, rubbing their sandpaper cheeks together to listen to rasp of their stubble.

"Someone's bossy. I'll have to remember that. Next time, I'll make you wait, make you beg for it.", Dean rumbled out his promise against the sweaty skin of Castiel's throat, making the angel shiver from it. Regretfully, Dean raised his head, his wings sending his information about what was going on outside. He became aware that Raphael had paused in his attack, the tenacious archangel finally admitting to himself that his attacks hadn't even singed a single one of Dean's crystalline feathers.

"Now let's go gank this son of a bitch and call it a day. I don't know about you, but I would like to do this again and soon.", Dean grinned, ducking in to steal a kiss from Castiel before the angel could react as he unfurled his wings and practically threw Castiel behind him. "Cas, go find yourself a shady spot. I got this."

"Dean!", Castiel yelled out in anger and fear as Dean threw away his stolen angel sword he had hidden in his wings. Good to know that was another thing they were useful for.

"I don't need it.", Dean smiled as he faced Raphael. The expression twisted itself into a smirk when he realized that he and Castiel were still naked and smelling heavily of sex, leaving very little to the imagination to what they had been doing together basically in front of the archangel.

"You fool. I will enjoy tearing those wings from your back.", Raphael snarled, the archangel obviously enraged as lightening fell away from his vessel and wings like sheets of water.

"Funny I was thinking the exact same thing, bitch.", Dean smirked as he faced the archangel. He could feel something gathering in his hand, as he somehow knew it would. Now that he was accepting the whole turning-into-an-angel thing, he found that this ever changing body was willing to offer him information in the form of hunches and gut urges. Despite other people's opinions, Sam wasn't the only smart one in the family. Ever since Dean found out that he was Michael's meat suit he did research on anything and everything that came his way about God's number one badass archangel.

It was just a hunch but one he could already feel was paying off. He was Michael's sword alright- sheath and weapon all in one- for the archangel, a neat little package of power made of flesh, bone, and blood. All of which was under Dean's conscious control now.

A curved blade made of pure light resolute itself in Dean's hand with its hilt attached to his wrist by ropes made of shining plasma that linked in deeper than skin and bone, brighter than any star, sharp enough to shave the skin off of atoms, and with power so great it could split a planet in passing.

And Dean was aiming it at Raphael.

"Mine's bigger.", Dean said before he darted forward faster than sound, faster than light letting his wings carry him forward the way they always wanted to, how they were designed to. Raphael screamed in rage at him, his voice shaking the sky with his disbelief. Out of all things in heaven and on earth, Dean truly loved the arrogance of angels, especially when it worked in his favor. The conceited idiot of an archangel was so in doubt that Dean could actually hurt his vessel that Raphael didn't even bother to dodge or block the rather clumsy sword swing that went kind of wide.

The hit connected though and Raphael screamed again though this time only louder and in sharp pain when the sword connected with one of his primary wing and upper shoulder, sending shining light filled blood across the sky like strange morbid rain. Before Dean could follow through with his next attack, Raphael gained some sense and flashed out of existence as the next strike hit vacant air.

"Damn it! Where did he go?!", Dean yelled at the now empty space.

"Gone. He underestimated you.", Castiel said from close by his side. Dean could hear the smile in his angel's voice, the hunter turned angel grinned back, the expression wide and fierce as the sword in his hand hummed and crackled with power.

"They always do."

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After a series of lessons that took longer than previously stated because they tended to keep getting derailed from time to time mostly because Castiel wouldn't mojo back their clothing and Dean still didn't know how or really wanted to, Dean managed to pull his wings back into his vessel so he could walk around earth and among mortals again incognito. His first course of action was to find his brother who had driven the Impala to Bobby's and was staying there for some support, unspoken and unasked for.

"How you been, boy? Hear ya got yurself a halo.", Bobby said in way of greeting, barely glancing up from his research as Dean winged in, the updraft from his arrival sending loose papers flying everywhere. He was still getting used to it but at least, he didn't crash into anything this time. Dean was beginning to wonder if anything surprised the old hunter anymore as he watched Bobby lean back in his chair and pour himself another shot of rotgut.

"Nice to see the important things don't ever change.", Dean shot back with a cheeky grin as he grabbed a glass of the cheap shit for himself.

"Well, I figure you can heal liver damage now so why hold back or give a damn.", Bobby shrugged, saluting the new angel with his glass before slugging it down his gullet. Dean started to roll his eyes until he really thought about it, grimacing from his own swallow of inferior whiskey but still enjoyed the burn from it.

"Point. Where's Sammie.", he asked instead of giving the hunter grief.

"Outback. So are ya sticking around or joining the haloed dick brigade?", Bobby asked, getting straight to the point as he poured himself another glass.

"Well considering that I'm an 'abomination', I don't think they'll be giving me my 'member only' jacket anytime soon.", Dean snorted, making a study of his stolen whiskey before looking up at the old hunter, not knowing what really to expect, "Looks like you're stuck with your very own angel.".

"Now there's a thought. Good thing we already had the Apocalypse otherwise I might think the world was ending again.", Bobby shook his head in mock disgust to hide his smile, "Jesus, whoever heard of an angel named Dean? They let any ole idjit become an angel nowadays.".

"Careful Bobby. Any more of that heathen talk and I'll have to smite you.", Dean laughed, some unnoticed held tension draining away from between his shoulders. Now he only had one other member of his family to gain acceptance from and it was the person he was dreading/wanting to see the most.

Bobby waved him off, turning back to his research. Dean refilled his glass with bad hooch prior before he wandered out, apprehension making his pause for respite. Bobby being Bobby noticed it right away for what it was. "Go find your brother before I kick your sorry feathered ass"

With a smile of weary gratitude at the old hunter, Dean made himself go look for Sam. Bobby watched him go, shaking his head.

"Idjit."  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sam was easy enough to find though he was half hidden under the Impala. "Hey Sam.", Dean said, kicking his brother in the calf to get his attention. He wasn't about to start the whole 'creeper angel stare down' thing to get people's attention.

"Dean! You're back!", Sam grinned, crawling out from under the Impala as he wiped some engine oil off of his hands with a rag. "When did you get in?".

"Never mind that! What the hell do you think you are doing to my baby!?", Dean yelled, staring in horror at the Impala's engine. He laid his hands upon it and bowed his head.

"Did you seriously just try to heal the car?", Sam said in disbelief after a moment of silence.

"Hell yeah I did!", Dean snapped as he dropped into the driver's seat to rev up the Impala. "What you were doing to Baby was not only hateful but a sin. I was well within my rights.".

"Don't you have better things to do now?", Sam asked wistfully and just like that, the awkward tension was back. Dean took a deep breathe he didn't need any longer. He reminded himself that no one had died this time and both of them had been through worse, namely Hell itself. When you have hit the mother of all rock bottoms, it can really put things in perspective.

"Sammie, are there still monsters to kill? Is Eve still out and about being disgusting? Is the world still trying to end itself in some way like an overmedicated emo?", Dean asked, tilting his head to the side before he even realized he was doing it. Frigging angel habits.

"Well….yeah?", Sam answered hesitantly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He hadn't known what to expect when or if Dean returned, but for changing into an angel, Dean seemed really normal.

"Then I'm going to be here for a long damn time. Total bonus now though, you got a seraph for an older brother and a kickass hunter so this is going to be a cake walk from now on.", Dean grinned. This felt good to him. It felt right. Now if Sam was on board, it would be perfect.

"That'll be new. Things going our way for once. I'll believe it when I see it.", Sam snorted, partial in amusement but mostly in disbelief. "So, how's Castiel?"

"He's good. Heaven's in sorta a stalemate cause Cas has me in his corner now. That and Raphael's gone into hiding with his tail tucked between his legs after the whammy I put on him.", Dean smirked, the expression down right self-satisfied and more than a little smug. Holding back an eye roll combined with bitchface, Sam wondered to himself if his brother's change really mattered at all. Dean was dick before so perhaps being an sngel actually suited him. Shaking that though, Sam feigned attention when he realized that Dean was still talking. "Angels aren't too keen on negotiations though. They're more of the ultimatum type so eventually I'll have to go back up there and kick some feathered ass. Until then, let's go do what we do best- Gank some evil bastards."

"Good to have you back.", Sam sighed in relief, hugging his brother for the first time since he got back. Dean was still Dean, whether he had wings or not.

"Good to be back. There's no decent liquor in heaven.", Dean said to help bypass the chick flick moment going on between them. He was already weak with relief. It didn't mean he had to show it though.

"No kidding?", Sam laughed in surprise, retrieving a couple of beer from a nearby cooler for them. He handed one off to Dean who gulped down his whiskey with a grimace to follow it down with half of beer.

"Yeah, you have to go down South for the good stuff.", Dean shrugged, sighing in contentment over a little taste of home. He didn't need it but that sure as shit didn't mean he didn't want it.

Sam watched his brother out of the corner of his eye, feeling the stress slip away from his own muscles. He was glad he found that he could smile again now that Dean was back home, very much altered from what he had been but still very much the same. "Figures."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The Winchesters hunted and surprisingly enough, not a whole lot changed. Angelically gifted or not, Sam still was the brains of the operation and still found most of the cases and did the research. Their body count got better and the healing was an added bonus. The only real difference was that the brothers got separate motel rooms now and with good reason.

"Hello Dean.", The sudden greeting no longer surprised the hell out of Dean. He could hear his angel coming to him from miles away, smell his scent on the wind.

"How's heaven?", Dean asked, biting back his smile as he asked that question. It amused the hell out of him that Raphael was still in hiding but he didn't feel like a lecture about the sin of hubris from his angel.

"Peaceful and tense for now. Raphael is still trying to find a way to heal himself. There are whispers and rumors that the damage you did to him was quite considerable.", Castiel said, with a glimmer of what Dean was going to call pride in his azure eyes.

"Well, I'm not surprised.", Dean grinned, not caring if he got a reprimand now for it. He was bad ass and now all of heaven knew it. That had to count for something.

"It was all luck on your part and Raphael's own foolish pride that made it possible.", Castiel rolled his eyes. The sour expression still managed to look fantastic on the angel's features.

"Aren't you supposed to stroke my ego?", Dean pouted, reaching out to pull the angel to him by the trench coat.

"No but I can offer to stroke other things for you.", Castiel said lightly, running his lips over the apples of Dean's cheeks in a teasing manner. It was a pleasant sensation but Dean was more focused on the one moving over his lower abdomen in light circular touches, traveling down to his groin. Gripping his angel tighter by the hips, Dean allowed his wings to unfurl from his back, the action followed by Castiel as the room was flooding with light and dark, crystalline order and midnight chaos.

Rain, salt, and ozone.

Apple, spice, and blood.

"You dirty little angel."

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The End  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO


End file.
